He Who Must Not Be Loved
by Ask-Stories
Summary: Catherine is a muggle born. She meets Tom Riddle, the strange pale wizard. He is handsome, magically advanced for his age and manipulative. Will muggle born Catherine be able to deter the birth of Lord Voldermort? Or will she become an unwitting victim?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.**_

**Chapter One**

Catherine gazed at her own misted reflection in the window of the Hogwarts Express, seeing her ordinary, pale face framed by plain, brown hair. Her heart thrummed at the centre of her chest as she changed her focus to the neat green fields that flitted past the window. She recalled her mother's expression before she boarded the train. The sadness and fear of letting her eleven year old daughter step onto a train with a group of strangers, to be educated in a school she had never heard the likes of before, had not been entirely concealed by her loving smile.

Catherine looked away from the window, from the scenes flying by outside and the reflection of her two, dark eyes and instead glanced around the compartment in which she was sitting. She was completely alone, although she could hear laughter and disturbances from behind the compartment door. She sighed. Back at home (before everything had changed) she had been an outsider. Things always seemed to happen to her, that were out of her control, including the time she touched a small bush, which instantly sprouted crimson berries. Then, one night, everything was explained in the form of a pleasant, auburn haired man, whose hair and beard fell below his waist. His name was Albus Dumbledore and as he stepped politely over the threshold of their small terraced house, her mother had gazed at his long robes in astonishment. He then proceeded to explain that Catherine was, in fact, a witch, born of non-magical parents.

Of course, her parents thought he was insane, until he pulled out a long stick – a wand – and swished it, causing the tea set on the coffee table to perform a tap dance. After then, Catherine and her parents lost their sceptical views. Magic existed.

Catherine sighed again, pulling out the wand she had acquired from a young, bright-eyed man called Ollivander. She waved it through the air absent-mindedly, feeling unpleasantly low. At home, she had been shunned for being different, strange, but she had hoped that here, she would be accepted more quickly by people who also had magic in their blood. But here she was, sitting alone.

A scrapping noise interrupted her thoughts. The compartment door slid open and a pale boy of her age stepped in.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Everyone is acting a little too over-excited for my liking. May I sit here?"

Even though Catherine could see he was her own age, he wore an oddly mature expression. She had always thought boys of her own age were immature and annoying. Not him. His face appeared to be carefully carved, angular and he had a head of thick black hair. His dark eyes met hers and his lips pulled into a smile.

"Yes," muttered Catherine, feeling a blush creep up her face and an odd sensation she didn't quite understand. "I'm Catherine Mills, by the way."

"Thank you," the boy answered, taking the seat directly across from her. "My name is Tom Riddle." They sat in silence for a while and Catherine became aware that she was still twirling her wand. Tom noticed as well and she immediately stopped. Tom spoke again. "Have you ever done any magic? On purpose I mean, not by accident." His eyes were glinting excitedly.

"Well," she hesitated. Not sure if this would count. "I waved my wand at a chair to see what happened and it fell over." He laughed.

"Well I guess that's something."

"So what amazing magic have you produced?" asked Catherine, irritated. "It's not fair, you know, I didn't even know about magic until Professor Dumbledore came." She noticed him wrinkle his nose at the name. Then he smiled.

"It was the same for me," he smirked. "I didn't know about magic, either. However, I knew I could make strange things happen and I learnt to control it."

"Are you just trying to make me feel bad?" she pouted, although she wasn't really irritated any more. She was, in fact, impressed.

"Of course not," he replied sincerely.

"Will you show me?" Tom hesitated for a moment, then whipped out his wand. He muttered something under his breath and pointed it as his left hand, then a small blue flame appeared in his palm. "Wow," she breathed, her eyes reflecting the dancing blue flames. Tom closed his fist around the flame, which vanished.

"Impressed?" he asked, his lips twitching again.

"_Really _impressed." She gazed at the boy curiously. His surname was truly apt... he was most definitely, a _Riddle_.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

_I hope that you enjoyed Chapter 1 and like the story so far. Catherine is an invention of mine, though you may recognise some familar names of actual characters throughout the tale. Please review the story, which I will continue to update and tell me what you think. All feedback, positive or negative is very much appreciated. Thank you._

**Chapter 2**

"Gryffindor," boomed the sorting hat. Catherine felt confused. Tom Riddle had expressed a particular desire to be placed into Slytherin and she had hoped that she would be with her new friend. Still, Tom hadn't been sorted yet and there was a chance that he was a Gryffindor too. She stumbled towards the long table and was met by enthusiastic applause and cheers. The warmth of the welcome was somewhat overwhelming and she half forgot her worries of being on her own. It seemed that house unity was taken seriously at Hogwarts.

Two students slid apart to make room for her to sit down. She felt her hand being grasped by many unknown people and she was patted on the back every few seconds. A hush fell and the next person was sorted.

Four students later, Tom Riddle was called forward. He calmly sat on the stool placed before the staff table and whispers blew swift as a wind though the hall, as every student laid their eyes on the unafraid boy.

"Slytherin!" The contact with the hat and Tom Riddle's head had been so brief, Catherine hadn't noticed it being placed upon him. Several people jumped at the forcefulness of the hat's declaration – but not Tom. No, he was smiling; a certain glint of triumph in his eyes. The Slytherin table erupted and the other three silent houses watched Tom approach his seat. Catherine, who felt a bitter disappointment, tried to catch his eye, but he didn't even glance around. Not until Lombard Switch was sorted into Griffindor, where Tom watched him approach the table and then noticed Catherine staring at him. He kept her gaze and tilted his head to the side slightly. Then he pulled his mouth into a small smile and winked subtly, then turned his attention back to the sorting and thereafter his own house members.

Lombard sat across from Catherine, looking relieved and smiled at her.

"Hello," he beamed. "I'm Lombard, but everyone's always called me Lommy."

"Oh, I'm Catherine, any nicknames are fine," she grinned.

"This place is absolutely brill-" Lommy began when a pearly white head popped abruptly up through the table and glanced around. Catherine gave a start of horror as she registered the translucent man with a ruff around his neck. His head remained in this position, as though perched on the table and he awaited end of the sorting. Catherine, however, was unable to take her attention away from the ghost. One upon a time, she had been so convinced that ghosts didn't exist; how wrong she had been.

"Hello first years," greeted the ghost, once the last person had been sorted. "I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor ghost!" He spoke proudly. "Whenever you are in need of guidance, I will always be at your service." He soared upwards with a _whoosh_ and the force caused his head to flop sideways away from his neck until it was being held on only by a tiny hinge of skin. Catherine squealed, but Lommy laughed with delight.

"Apologies," said the ghost, flipping his head back into place and looking delighted with the response.

"Nearly headless Nick," exclaimed Lommy. "A second year told me about you, on the train." Then after catching the look on Sir Nicholas' face he added, "They said you were the best ghost at Hogwarts." He looked appeased and floated down the table to the other students. Only then did Catherine realise that the once empty tables were now piled high with scrumptious food. There was almost too much to choose from and it was nothing like what Catherine was used to. In the muggle world, a term she had only recently become used to, everything was about war and rations, but here seemed to be thoroughly unaffected.

"Brilliant," muttered a boy with a strange accent, who was sat to the left of Lommy. He looked up at Catherine. "I'm Llew, by the way. Llew Llewellyn."

"I'm Kate Trelawney," piped up a dreamy voice to the right of Lommy. Feeling thoroughly overwhelmed by the numerous people, Catherine introduced herself to her fellow first years timidly, as did Lommy. She realised then, that these three people were her friends and after realising this exciting revelation, she relaxed completely and conversed with Lommy, Llew and Kate. She particularly enjoyed asking Llew to repeat phrases in his fascinating accent, which he explained originated from Wales. She had only ever spoken to English people before now and the change was like a small adventure in itself.

Once the feast had ended, the tall Prefect gathered the first years together and guided them through the school. Catherine walked beside Kate and stared at the many moving pictures on the wall, who watched them pass, waving enthusiastically. The long winding staircases, so she was told, had a habit of moving and every time she stepped onto a new one, she tensed, ready to run or jump, should it happen. Eventually, they reached a life size portrait of a rather round woman.

"The Fat Lady," Lommy muttered from behind Catherine. "She guards the Griffindor dormitories."

"The password is Scwibbly wiggly," announced the Prefect and the portrait swung forward, revealing a hole to climb through. "Take care to remember it."

The first years clambered through the hole and met a cosy looking room plastered in red and gold. A lit fire sent waves of warmth washing over them and Catherine instantly felt sleepy. The Prefect showed them the way to the dormitories and Catherine and Kate gladly made their way towards them.

"Night," called Lommy, to their retreating backs.

"Night," the girls and Llew chorused.

The girls entered their dormitory and found their trunks beside four poster beds. They both made their ways to the beds, got ready and climbed in. As Catherine snuggled under her warm covers, she turned her mind to Tom Riddle and realised that she had almost forgotten about him in the light of making new friends. Still, she would probably see him tomorrow, so she would be able to talk to him then. Her worry slipped away and she closed her eyes, feeling content. Hogwarts was where she belonged.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

_I was extremely pleased with the people who reviewed my story and added it to their story alerts. _

_A special thank you to FlamingRebirth for your kind comments. This chapter is dedicated to you._

**Chapter 3**

It was the owls that made the first noise of the day. The constant screeching and disturbances from the owlery echoed around Catherine's mind and she rolled over in her bed, before slowly rising. She could tell by the light outside that it was fairly early.

"Shut up," she muttered, thoroughly disgruntled with the racket they were making. She slid quietly out of bed and noticed that Kate and two other girls who shared their dormitory, were still fast asleep; somehow. Catherine silently slipped on her robes and made her way down the winding staircase to the common room, where the noise of the owls was much fainter. There were only two other people here, a seventh year boy and girl, who looked a lot bigger than she was. All the same, they acknowledged her presence with a smile and spoke in low voices as though continuing a conversation that had been interrupted. Catherine sank into an armchair, wondering what her day would involve. Hogwarts seemed like the sort of place with hidden surprises and impossibilities.

A sense of eager adventure gripped her and she became instantly bored of sitting in that armchair, doing nothing. She wanted to explore the castle, to see what she could find. She leapt up and strolled towards the entrance, which was blocked by the back of the Fat Lady's portrait. She knew how to get in, just not out. Catherine puzzled over the fact that there was no handle and glanced back into the main common room, where the two students were watching her, looking a little amused. The girl, however, took pity on her and ventured forward.

"Watch," she ordered, gently laying her hands on the portrait and pushing it, so that it swung open. Catherine felt suddenly stupid… why hadn't she just tried that?

"Thanks," mumbled Catherine, humiliated, but the girl looked down on her kindly.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "It takes everyone a while to get used to Hogwarts. If you ever need any help, just ask me, okay? I'm Cindy Puddyfoot and that over there is Alastor Moody." The boy raised his arm in greeting. Well, boy was the wrong word, as he was far more a man in build.

"You should enjoy this year," Alastor grinned. "It only gets harder. I'm training to be an auror," he added proudly and impressively.

"Stop showing off, Al," frowned Cindy. She then caught Catherine's confused look. "An auror is a dark wizard catcher. It's an exceptionally dangerous career choice, but admirable," she admitted. "Not many of us are elite enough to follow that ambition," she added with a hint of sarcasm.

Al winked at her.

"You could always be my assistant," he suggested.

"Oh you think?" she demanded playfully, advancing towards to him. She glanced back at Catherine. "It was nice to meet you. I didn't catch your name…"

"I'm Catherine," she replied. "Well, thanks."

"See you around," smiled Al.

Catherine, feeling elated, left through the portrait hall. The Fat Lady eyed her as she passed and she smiled back nervously. As she walked, she replayed the conversation she had just had in her head. An auror sounded, indeed, like a dangerous job, which brought home to her the fear that there were dark wizards out there that needed catching. Aurors sounded like the magical version of police, who, in the muggle world, spent their lives catching criminals and locking them up. Did the wizards have prisons? Or was it simply the death penalty for wrongdoers? Catherine wondered as she moved down a corridor and then onto a flight of stairs. She became lost several times and used the staircase as a marker.

Somehow, she managed to find herself in the Library. From floor to very high ceiling were… books; so many books that she knew she could spend a whole lifetime here reading and never get through them all. Catherine had plenty enough reading to do with her set books, without even opening one of these. Still, she moved around the shelves, looking at titles and trying to memorise some that she may want to read another day. After all, she did have seven long years here to learn all she could.

"Well if it isn't the Gryffindor," said a quiet voice. Catherine, recognising the speaker, spun around with a smile.

"Tom!" she exclaimed happily. "Did the owls wake you up early too?"

"The _owls_?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

"Well, the noise coming from the owlery woke me up. I just thought…" her voice tailed off at the sight of Tom's smirk.

"My common room is apparently better placed than yours," he chuckled.

"Why, where is yours?"

"Now that would be telling," he replied gleefully. Catherine frowned.

"Slippery Slytherin," she muttered. He winked and in response she stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's a shame about the sorting. I guess you were a little unlucky," mused Tom. "My house is excellent. You must just be too _nice_."

"Why do you say it like it's a bad thing?" she demanded.

"You need to have more fight, more ambition to succeed. You have to want things and do what must be done to get them. That's why I'm a Slytherin. That's why _you_ are a Gryffindor. You need more ambition."

At first, Catherine had been irritated with Tom's words, but by the end of his short speech, she was enraptured. She suddenly felt worried; maybe he was right. Maybe she wasn't good enough to be in Slytherin. He had spoken with such surety that it was the best house, the place for people who wanted to be something and had the means to achieve it.

"I have ambition," she said in a quiet voice, completely unconvincing.

"Well, since I've got the advantage, I might be able to give you a few pointers on improving," he told her confidently. "And when I am the greatest sorcerer the world has ever seen, you will be able to thank me for coaching you."

"Wow," said Catherine, a slight frown on her face. "We haven't even had our first lesson and you're already going to be the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"That's your problem, Catherine. You're not striving for the best; it's never too early to set an ambitious plan in motion."

Catherine felt, in many ways, that she was having a conversation with someone a lot older than herself. Despite being the same age physically, he was so much more advanced and self-assured. She found herself believing him. This boy, young though he may be, was used to getting his own way and he would continue to do so. There was little doubt in her mind that he would get exactly what he wanted and intended to get. A sense of envy gripped her and she felt a desire to aim higher, to achieve more, to _show _him that she didn't need to be in Slytherin to succeed. She did, however, get the sense that there was something different about him today. It was as though simply being sorted into the house he wanted to be in, proved that things would go his way. Even now, Catherine was unable to resist his charms and strong opinions. Tom had made her mind up for her, in the same way he had probably made up the sorting hat's mind for it.

"What do I need to do?" asked Catherine, slightly desperately, as though Tom's words were infallible.

"Focus on your target, then reach it," he said simply. His manner transformed and it immediately lessened the intensity of the conversation. "So how was your first night as a Gryffindor?"

"Overwhelming," she smiled. He looked puzzled so she continued. "I felt like I was welcome and that everyone just accepted me. I'm not used to that."

"So, you've never felt like you belonged anywhere before now?" he inquired. Then slowly, his face shifted into one of wonder. "I feel the same way."

Catherine was aware that his last words had layers of meanings to him. The truth was, Tom, for the first time in his orphaned life had found someone with something so deeply in common with him and for the first time, his reaction was not to shun the idea of similarities to another person but to consider them. However, Tom didn't realise that Catherine's words weren't true in the way he perceived them. She did, at least, have a loving family to which she had a bone deep sense of belonging. Her reference to being accepted was more targeted at her peers, the people of her own age. Tom, however, had no family, had never belonged anywhere before and misinterpreted Catherine to have had the same experience.

"Well," said Catherine, breaking what had become a lengthy silence. "It sounded to me, with the sorting hat's song that by principle we should be worst enemies. The whole good versus evil thing."

"Perhaps," grinned Tom. "But I don't believe in good and evil. There is only power." Then as an afterthought he added. "And those too weak to seek it."

"Yeah, whatever Tom," laughed Catherine, rolling her eyes. "Look, I've no idea where we are going, but somehow we need to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast and I'm _starving_."

"Lucky I'm here then," laughed Tom. "Follow me."

They journeyed through the castle's many corridors and down numerous flights of stairs, before they found themselves in the Entrance Hall. They reached the door of the Great Hall and Tom stood back, his arm outstretched.

"Lady's first," he said politely. Catherine just giggled as she walked through the door. There were already many students eating breakfast at the tables. Simultaneously, Catherine and Tom realised that their houses were sitting on separate tables. They looked at each other. Somehow, the house unity was already setting in and Catherine felt an unexplained loyalty to Gryffindor that wouldn't let her sit at the Slytherin table. In fact, when she made eye contact with anyone at their table, she received icy glares and became aware that Tom was getting strange looks from members of her own house. The negative judgement that was coming from a Gryffindor and a Slytherin standing side by side, was what caused them to part and join the rival tables. For a moment, Tom seemed unimpressed by the housing system and the separation. However as he sat at the table, he was greeted cheerfully by many students and he seemed to forget his reservations.

Likewise, on approaching the table, Catherine found Kate and Llew tucking into their eggs and bacon and Lommy, who had finished his food, was watching her come.

"Morning," he greeted. Catherine smiled at him and sat down. "Who's that guy that you came in here with?"

"What? You mean Tom?" she asked

"The Slytherin guy, yeah." He frowned. "Look, I've heard about their house. They're one for all and all for one, but you can't trust any of them. They have no limits."

She wanted to defend Tom, but there was something about Lommy's comment about no limits that stopped her. In many ways, she could see that as being one of Tom's traits. Already he was obsessed with success and reaching his goals by any means necessary. However, the "one for all" bit she wasn't sure about. Surely Tom would rather that they were all for him; he seemed too individualised to be a true team player.

"I'd watch him," said a slightly gruff voice. It was Alastor Moody.

"What?" asked Catherine. "Tom? Why?"

"I have a bad feeling about him and I trust my own instincts," replied Al firmly. "He is trouble."

"Listen to him," nodded Lommy. "Our houses just don't get on, it's as simple as that. See him there? Yeah the big guy that your friend is talking to. Well, he is Harold Mulciber and then next to him is Irminius Rosier. Those two were awful on the train; they kept driving us mad by stealing our chocolate frogs and dropping dungbombs. I nearly threw up. We were enemies before the sorting; it's just how it is. Oh, those two coming through the entrance to the Great Hall," Catherine looked. "That's Theophile Lestrange with Olive Hornby, I think she's called. They were part of the little gang of train idiots. Slytherins, the lot of them; what does _tha_t tell you?"

Catherine couldn't find it in herself to speak. Already, she felt pressured by her peers to drop Tom, simply because of his house, yet she felt a deep defiance to rebel against the mould and prove that inter house friendships could work. She looked over a Tom, hoping to exchange a determined look with him, but he was immersed in a conversation with the Mulciber boy and didn't return her gaze. Catherine looked back around, disappointed.

"I know it's difficult," murmured Al. "But you have to be careful where Slytherin is concerned. The truth is every wizard who has turned bad, was in Slytherin." Catherine looked shocked. "Yeah, Salazar himself started the trend. He wanted to rid the school of muggleborns and he was careful to take on only the students filled with ambition and cunning. In our house, only people of bravery and loyalty are admitted, Ravenclaws are for the particularly bright students and Hufflepuff, despite having a lot of negative stigma, are for the true of heart, modest and hardworking students. Anywhere is better than Slytherin."

"Just because you're placed in Slytherin, doesn't automatically mean you will be evil," replied Catherine stubbornly.

"Perhaps," allowed Al. "But you will spend seven years in close contact with the house members that are most prone to turning bad. Evil is tempting and influential, so it spreads."

Catherine felt herself believing him, which made her angry. She felt herself going red and a retort was building up, but before it could properly form, the post arrived and she forgot her anger. From every direction, owls soared into the Great Hall, hooting at each other and carrying letters and packages from all over Britain. To her great surprise a tawny owl swooped in front of her and dropped a letter from its beak. It was addressed to her.

_To Cathy_

_Your dad and I are missing you loads! What is Hogwarts like? I've been speaking to a very nice lady, her son Lombard is in your year. Do you know him? Apparently, their family live really close to us and she's been telling me about Hogwarts and the house system. She also told me it's a good idea to have an owl to send letters with, so she came with me to Diagon Alley after the train left and I bought this owl. That's right, he's all yours! He doesn't have a name yet, so make it a good one. Which house are you in honey?_

_Love you lots_

_Mum_

Catherine carefully folded up the letter and pocketed it, then looked incredulously at the owl that was now hers. Tentatively, she carefully stroked the his soft brown feathers with one finger.

"He's mine," Catherine informed the others in disbelief. "Mum and dad sent me an owl."

"Brilliant," beamed Kate. "He's gorgeous."

"Lommy," said Catherine. "Our parents have made friends. Yours took mine to Diagon Alley after the train had gone to help them buy this owl. Apparently we live really close as well."

"Small world," ginned Lommy. "I did think I recognised you from around, but I wasn't sure."

Catherine was so excited by her new pet and the new revelation about Lommy that she was no longer angry with the Tom problem. Her current priority was to name the owl and study her timetable, which was handed to her a few minutes later.

Her timetable informed her that she had Flying lessons, Potions, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. So, she would see a reasonable amount of Tom anyway. The lessons looked extremely exciting and she couldn't wait to start.

_A/N: As you can see, I've brought a couple of new names (or old names for Harry Potter fans) to the story. I thought it would be good to mention Moody, because we all know he goes on to being a brilliant auror and has great instinct. I believe Moody, if given the chance, would have been suspicious about Tom immediately and probably, like most Gryffindors, suspicious of Slytherins full stop. _

_Also, I haven't named the owl. I thought it would be nice for fanfiction readers to get involved in the story and suggest names for Catherine's new male owl, so please leave suggestions if you comment. _

_Thank you for reading._


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry about the delay everyone, I hope you enjoy this update. _

_Although there will be no direct mention in this chapter, Catherine's owl is to be named "Morosaether" after some consideration and much inspiration from "FlamingRebirth". The name is an original one, created by two separate words, with contrasting and relevant meanings. Feel free to research it and see where it comes from._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 4**

Madam Hooch strode between the two lines that were formed either side of her. The Gryffindors stood shoulder to shoulder facing the Slytherins who were likewise, as though they were opposing armies in a battle. Beside each student lay an old, battered broomstick, some more worn than others.

"Now, everyone," called Madam Hooch clearly and sharply. "Hold your right arm out over your brooms and say up. This side first, please," she added, directing her speech towards the Gryffindors. "Three, two, one… go!"

"Up," they all chorused. Lommy's broom flew into his hand on the third attempt and he looked around to see how everyone else was doing.

"Up," mumbled Catherine, a little later than everyone else. The broom twitched and then remained motionless. She looked up at Tom, who was stood watching her. She tried again several times and eventually it flew into her hand.

"Now this side," continued Madam Hooch, once everyone had been successful. She didn't count the Slytherins in and Tom looked at Catherine, with a meaningful look.

"Determination," he mouthed. Then, almost lazily, he stretched his hand out over the broomstick and with a clear voice of authority, ordered the broom, "Up."

It immediately and smoothly rose into his outstretched hand and he seemed amused by the looks of admiration his fellow housemates gave him in response. He also seemed unaffected by the looks of distaste from the Gryffindors. Lommy was practically seething, feeling cheated out of his moment of glory.

"Smarmy rat," he muttered, in irritation and Catherine gave him an unimpressed look, which he returned with a semi-apologetic smile.

As the flying lesson progressed, it became clear that, despite no previous experience, Tom was a natural at flying. By the end of the lesson, the Slytherins were amazed by him, the Gryffindors, overall, were grudgingly accepting his talent over theirs and Catherine was extremely intrigued. One thing she did notice, however, was the extra attention he was receiving from the Slytherin girls, particularly Olive Hornby. Tom clearly enjoyed the admiration, but he retained a modest expression all the same and that didn't surprise Catherine in the slightest.

"Bit of an attention seeker, isn't he?" stated Llew neutrally, as he, Lommy, Catherine and Kate made their way back up to the main castle. The sky was overcast and a light breeze played about their necks.

"That's one way of putting it," sniffed Lommy.

"I don't think he is," shrugged Kate. "He's just good at something. There's nothing wrong with that."

Over the coming lessons that the Gryffindors and Slytherins had together Catherine realised that Tom Riddle, it transpired, was good at _everything_.

In their first potions lesson, they were required to brew a potion for curing boils. Tom, however, finished his potion to absolute perfection before everyone else and Slughorn looked at his potion.

"This is the draught of living death, Tom," he said, surprised, looking at the instructions Tom was following.

"Yes sir," nodded Tom. "I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to give myself a slightly more challenging potion, sir."

"Slightly, Tom? This is advanced beyond your years. Have you ever brewed a potion before?"

"No sir," answered Tom, calmly.

"But this," he indicated the cauldron with excitement. "This has been brewed to perfection. It normally takes years to make potions to that standard."

"Is that right?" Tom asked, with a look of innocent surprise.

"My, my," Slughorn said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd live to see the day a first year would brew a perfect draught of living death on their first attempt. Incredible." Slughorn, throughout the rest of the lesson, proceeded to insert comments about Tom's marvellous potion making skills. He also added that once they had finished their attempts at curing boils, they should bring their samples to the front in glass phials.

"Tom," called Slughorn, after the bell to signal the end of class sounded. "Come here please."

Catherine lingered by her cauldron, intending to find out what was being discussed and in doing so was able to listen to their conversation.

"What is it sir?" asked Tom with impeccable politeness.

"Well, I have a little group of students that join me for meals and extra coaching," explained Slughorn. "I call it the Slug Club. It's for students who I perceive to have a lot of potential and appear to be gifted. I would be delighted if you could join me and the other members at a gathering tomorrow evening."

"It would be an honour, sir," smiled Tom and then he turned his head to see Catherine watching him. She quickly scooped up her bag and approached him, holding her glass phial.

"Is everything alright Miss… Mills?" asked Slughorn kindly.

"Yes sir," nodded Catherine, smiling and she handed him the glass phial. She began to make her way towards the door, Tom following, when Slughorn called her back.

"Hold on a minute," he said quickly.

"Yes sir?" Catherine answered, feeling confused. Maybe her potion was horrendously bad. She hoped not, after all it was a lot like cooking, which she had always enjoyed at home.

Tom also stopped, watching the two of them. They were now the only three in the classroom.

"This is perfect," he answered simply. "You may not quite have the ambitious attitude of Tom, here, but I could help you reach your potential. I would like for you to join me tomorrow evening as well." He then addressed them both. "It will be in my office at about seven thirty. I hope to see you both there."

Tom and Catherine exchanged a slightly surprised look at his words and then Tom smiled.

"Of course sir," he answered, before leading the way out of the classroom. Once they were clear of the dungeons, Tom spoke. "See, your only downfall is ambition, even Slughorn said it. I think if you tried, really tried, greatness would come to you."

"Weren't you worried that you might have got the potion wrong and been in trouble for not doing the cure for boils?" asked Catherine, wonderingly.

"I'm not as worried about those types of consequences like you and the rest of your house. I set my aims higher and achieved what I wanted. I think this Slug Club, could be interesting."

"It's a bit weird though," mumbled Catherine. "It's like we've been collected, like we're some sort of prize."

"We are," smiled Tom. "He wants us, not the other way round. That puts us in the better position. If we prove ourselves as worth keeping, I bet we could get him do anything we wanted. Get him on side."

"On side?" repeated Catherine, perplexed. "What on earth are you planning Tom?"

"I've not started planning yet, this is just the preparation," he smirked knowingly.

"Preparing to plan?" Catherine frowned slightly, a sense of exasperation building in her chest. "Well, no one can say you're not organised, I'll give you that. Fail to prepare, prepare to fail? That's what I've always been told."

"Yes," he replied pleasantly, though his voice had an edge. "And I will _not_ fail."

Feeling the conversation had gotten a little too serious, for her liking, Catherine changed the subject swiftly.

The pattern of Tom Riddle's brilliance continued into their Defence Against the Dark Arts class, in which Tom knew the answer to every question. In fact, Professor Merrythought was so intrigued by his knowledge that she spent half the lesson probing him with questions, each of which he answered flawlessly, though modestly. Catherine was amazed and a little nervous of the knowledge Tom already possessed of both the dark arts and the defences against it and Professor Merrythought was positively delighted.

By Transfiguration, Catherine was sure that, as far as Hogwarts teachers were concerned, Tom could do no wrong. Anticipating Professor Dumbledore's probable amazement with Tom, she was incredibly shocked that Tom, after exchanging a somewhat awkward look with the Transfiguration teacher, kept quiet throughout the whole class. Professor Dumbledore, though admittedly casting occasional, penetrating looks through his sparkling blue eyes at Tom, did not give him the preferential treatment he had received by every other student and teacher. Catherine was convinced there was a tension between the student and teacher, which mystified her. She made a mental note to ask Tom about the matter later and throughout the rest of the lesson, found, to her great astonishment, that she had a certain prowess for Transfiguration. When asked to perform a simple spell, of course Tom was first, but after him, Catherine was the next to master the spell.

"Very good," Professor Dumbledore twinkled at her in an undertone, as he passed and she felt elated.

"I really enjoyed that lesson," Catherine gabbled. "I think Transfiguration is a great subject, and Professor Dumbledore is such a nice teacher."

"Yeah," muttered Tom sarcastically. "He's just _lovely_."

"You don't like him do you?" asked Catherine curiously. "Is it just because he didn't immediately fall in love with you like the rest of the teachers? He probably will, Tom."

"He won't," replied Tom firmly. "He was the one who told me I was a wizard, but we didn't get off to the best start."

"Why wha-?" Catherine began but Tom cut across her.

"We're just a personality clash, that's all," he muttered. "It doesn't really matter. He loves you though." His added comment seemed to hint at a sneer.

"Jealous?" she smirked, teasing him.

"No," laughed Tom. "I'd be careful though, he's not as pleasant as he appears. He fooled me too."

"What do you mean?" asked Catherine, concerned.

"I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay," he replied. "Anyway, we've got to go and get ready for our induction to the _Slug Club_."

"That means we have to split up because of the stupid houses," groaned Catherine.

"Look I know I'm amazing but you can't have me all the time, it's just greedy."

"Hmph," she huffed, turning her back on him and muttering incoherently about people with overlarge heads that need deflating.

"See you later, then," he called, sounding amused. She wasn't really irritated with Tom. True, he had an annoyingly high opinion of himself, but he was interesting to spend time with and she was sure they had a friendship, even if he did sometimes make her feel inferior.

She got ready for the Slug Club and attended the event with Tom. In truth, there wasn't a lot to comment on. Slughorn introduced all in attendance to each other and Catherine was greeted warmly by Al Moody, who eyed Tom with a certain suspicion when introduced to him. Clearly, everyone in the room either had family connections or a high level of potential in education and future prospects. Catherine felt a little too ordinary and out of place, a concern she voiced to Tom in an undertone.

"Have more faith in yourself," he whispered reassuringly. "You belong here."

Although he had not said much, these words made her appreciate him far more and in her eyes, this moment strengthened their friendship.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 5**

Over the next few months, Catherine settled into life at Hogwarts, making time to develop closer friendships with Kate, Llew and Lommy, while also being able to confide in the almost surprisingly kind, Al Moody. Although he frequently warned her that fraternising with the Slytherins was extremely risky, she continued to maintain her connection with Tom, seeing him in lessons, during Slug Club meetings and sometimes around the castle.

Catherine also sent messages with her beautiful golden and brown flecked owl, who she had decided to call Morosaether, home to her parents at least once a week. She told her family about the people and the lessons and assured them that she was enjoying herself, which was true. She did, though, add that she was missing them greatly, though they insisted not as much as they missed her.

One chilly Saturday morning, Catherine woke up early to the sound of screeching owls and decided to walk up to the owlery to send a message home. After getting dressed quietly and slipping out of the dormitory, she ventured through the castle. As she strolled down a corridor, pulling her robes firmly around her due to the cold, she passed Professor Dumbledore.

"Good morning," he beamed, twinkling at her. "You're up early."

"Yes sir," smiled Catherine, a little sheepish. "I was going to the owlery, to send a message home."

"I see," nodded Dumbledore. "We must keep our relationships nurtured; we can't have them withering now, can we?"

"Er… I guess not, sir," replied Catherine slightly awkwardly.

"How are you settling in at Hogwarts?" he asked kindly, holding her gaze with his blue eyes, as though looking inside her head for the answer.

"I like it, everyone is great, sir," she answered sincerely.

"Very good," he smiled. "Well, I'll let you get off to send your message. Good day Catherine."

"Good day Professor," she replied and just as she was about to walk away, the Transfiguration teacher spoke again.

"Ah," he said. After realising it wasn't her he was speaking to, Catherine looked around to see who had arrived. "Good morning, Tom."

"Morning sir," he answered a little stiffly. Then in a far warmer tone he added, "Morning Catherine, how are you?"

"I'm fine," she grinned. "I was just on my way to the owlery."

"Were you?" he asked pleasantly. "Mind if I come along?"

"Course not," she beamed, then she saw Professor Dumbledore's expression of discomfort and he looked as though he wanted to say something.

"Is there a problem, sir?" asked Tom carefully, as he moved to stand beside Catherine. "Are Slytherins and Gryffindors not allowed to spend time with each other, in case it ends badly?"

"Tom!" muttered Catherine sharply. "Sorry sir, we've just been getting some negative comments for being friends. I don't understand it."

"The house rivalry goes back years," Professor Dumbledore said, somewhat sombrely. "But house unity is always encouraged."

"Then why are you upset by our being friends, sir?" Tom asked innocently. "You are, aren't you?"

He shook his auburn head sadly. "Like I said Tom, house unity is always encouraged, love is a wondrous thing and we should spread it as far as we can."

"Of course sir," nodded Tom and although he sounded sincere, Catherine had the sense it was an act. Even she thought spreading love was going a bit far and deep. "Well, Catherine, let's go and get that letter sent. Goodbye sir."

"Good day," he replied quietly, eyeing Catherine with concern that made her feel a little anxious. What was there to be worried about? Was house rivalry really _that_ bad?

The two of them didn't say another word until they were sure that they were out of earshot of Professor Dumbledore.

"Odd man," muttered Tom, though he looked a little worked up.

"He was definitely acting weird," agreed Catherine quietly. "I don't get it. What does he have against you? Or is it just a Slytherin thing, I mean, he was a Gryffindor too."

"No, it's just me he has the problem with," sighed Tom.

"Why?" she demanded, feeling frustrated at the lack of information he was giving her. He looked uncomfortable.

"Well, I grew up in an orphanage, as you know," muttered Tom awkwardly, discomfort was not a regular thing for Tom and it was strange to see him this way.

"Yes," nodded Catherine, although a little more sensitively, recognising this to be a touchy subject. Tom had mentioned it to her, but only as a passing comment, as though it didn't matter and had refused to discuss it further.

"But they didn't like me there… they told him things about me… lies… but he believed them," he explained in slightly distressed tones.

"What things?" she asked.

"That I scared the other children," he confessed miserably. He glanced up at Catherine to see her expression and all he saw reflected at him was concern. "But it wasn't my fault. It was the magic, even I didn't realise what it was. But there were situations when weird things happened, but they were always around me. So the people there treated me differently, like an outsider and Dumbledore judged me on what they said." He sounded really upset at this point.

"You're right, it wasn't your fault," frowned Catherine, though speaking firmly. "We can't control our magic before school and it's likely to freak people out. You'd have thought Professor Dumbledore would have understood that."

"That's what I thought." Catherine realised that Tom was grinding his teeth and she placed a hand on his shoulder, in order to calm him. His whole body stiffened and even Catherine felt surprised at her action. She thought he would immediately shake her off, but instead he looked at her hand and frowned slightly, as though troubled but curious. Catherine hastily pulled back her arm and spoke.

"It was the same for me, Tom," she informed him evenly. "People stayed clear of me because they thought I was some sort of freak. I hated it, but it's okay here. Dumbledore is just one person, he doesn't matter, I know you better than him and he's wrong about you."

"Thank you Catherine," he answered with an almost uncharacteristic shyness. Then his demeanour changed and he straightened up. "Anyway, I'll show him he's wrong."

"Too right you will," encouraged Catherine. "Now I really need to send this message."

"Who are you writing to, anyway?" he asked distracted.

"Mum and dad," she replied absentmindedly, pulling the letter from her pocket and unfolding it to check everything was there.

"What?" he asked; his voice cold. She looked up, taken aback.

"What's wrong?" she asked, perplexed.

"I thought you were like me," he hissed, sounding angry. "Not fitting in, not having anywhere where you belonged."

"But…" She was completely lost. "But… they don't count, that's not how I meant it. Did you think I was an orphan?" Tom looked away, glaring at one of the barn owls. That was answer enough. "You did," she realised, shocked. "But I never said that."

"It's just a misunderstanding," he muttered, furiously.

"Are you really going to have a mood with me because I have parents?" she demanded, feeling her temperature rise. "If it makes you feel any better, they sometimes acted like I was a freak, too."

"At least you had someone!" he shrieked.

They stood in shocked silence. Both of them were surprised by Tom's outburst and his expression turned to horror at his lack of control; he had never intended to voice that to anyone. He had clearly intended to hide his sense of loneliness and for a moment Tom had exposed a deep rooted part of himself. Then his expression clouded over and became emotionless.

"Tom," whispered Catherine, feeling miserable sympathy for the boy.

"Don't look at me like that," he ordered sharply. "I don't want pity. I don't need pity. I don't need anyone."

"You've got me," mumbled Catherine, hoping to make him feel a little better.

"Have I?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Anyway, what are you writing to your _parents_-" he said the word in a sneer. "-for?"

"There's no need to be like that," she glared. "And if you must know, I was telling them about how excited I was to see them over Christmas."

There was a pause.

"You're not stopping at the castle?" he inquired.

"No, I'm seeing my family," she retorted, still feeling angry.

"Who needs family, they just let you down," muttered Tom.

"Mine don't," she replied firmly.

"I thought you said they acted like you were a freak," he reminded her darkly.

"I was trying to make you feel better," she groaned in exasperation. "We still love each other."

"_Love_," he mocked. "You and Dumbledore should get together. Spread the _love_."

Catherine suddenly smiled, which caught Tom off-guard.

"You're angry because I'm not spending Christmas here with you," she teased. "You're going to miss me. Go on admit it."

"No," he replied coldly. "I told you, I don't need anyone."

"Need and want aren't the same thing Tom," she replied.

"That's right," he replied darkly. "I _have_ what I need and I _get_ what I want."

"Not this time, I'm afraid," she mumbled apologetically. "I miss my family. I really need to spend time with them."

"Need or want?" he demanded.

"Both."

"I see," he replied. "Personally, I don't see why that is. No one can fulfil any needs in the way this place can."

"Well that's your opinion," she shrugged. "But I have a part here," she pointed at her chest, "that feels like it has a gaping hole, where my family should be, because I've never spent so long away from them before and I'm not used to it. It's hard, you'd feel the same if it was you."

Tom sighed. "It's a weakness."

"What is? Missing my family? Only when we are apart, when I'm with them it makes us all strong," replied Catherine darkly. "It's like we're complete."

"Nope," Tom stated bluntly. "I've never felt like that before, personally and I don't see how relying on other people makes you, the individual, stronger."

"I'm not talking about this anymore," Catherine told him hotly. "Or we will end up falling out before I go."

The pair of them stood in silence while Catherine tied the letter to Morosaether's leg and told the owl who the message was for.

"Nice owl," said Tom quietly, as they watched him soar away. His tone was a sad one.

"Don't you want one?" asked Catherine, not looking at him.

"What use would an owl be to me?" he asked, dejectedly.

She glanced at him, realising what his words implied. Who would he send a letter to?

"I'll write to you, when I'm at home," she promised. He nodded, almost smiling, though still looking downtrodden.

They left the owlery shortly after and went down to get breakfast. The Great Hall was already full of people and Catherine suddenly remembered that there was a Quidditch match that day. The whole house had been buzzing about the upcoming game and Catherine had discovered the rules through Lommy, who was a devout Quidditch fan. He was now sat at the Gryffindor table, sporting a Gryffindor hat and scarf.

"We'll beat those Slytherins, just you watch," he told Catherine firmly. "Gryffindor is going to win this match, I can feel it."

To her surprise, Catherine noticed a great deal of support was coming from Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well. Llew told her it was due to how much everyone hated Slytherin and just wanted them to lose. The Gryffindor team were eating together, looking incredibly nervous and smiling half-heartedly at people who patted them on the backs encouragingly.

When the time came, they all rose together and left the Great Hall for the pitch, receiving enthusiastic cheers and applause from the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Catherine joined in with the loud support and once the team were clear of the Great Hall, followed with Lommy and Llew.

"Where's Kate?" asked Llew, wonderingly.

"The dormitory I suspect," muttered Catherine. She had spoken to her friend about the Quidditch match a few days previously and was left in little doubt that she would not be attending. "She probably won't be coming."

"How can she miss this?" demanded Lommy, outraged.

"Someone in her family was a Quidditch player and he was killed in the middle of a game," Catherine whispered.

"Oh," Lommy looked suddenly ashamed of his words. "I didn't mean it, I just thought… I…"

"It's okay," Catherine told him. "You didn't know. Just don't tell her I told you, she'll speak to you about it in her own time, if she wants to."

"Okay, of course," said Llew, nodding. "Poor Kate."

However, once the three friends entered the Quidditch pitch, their anxiety for their friend vanished, to be replaced by the excitement of the atmosphere. They found seats in the raised platforms and eagerly awaited the start of the match. The players gathered around the fair haired Madame Hooch for a pre-match pep talk, then the Quidditch balls were released, the whistle blown and the game began.

"Gryffindor in possession…" announced a young, male voice, who Catherine discovered to be a Ravenclaw boy, possibly fourth year. "GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Cheers erupted from everyone but the groaning Slytherins and Catherine could see Professor Slughorn shaking his head, disappointedly. The game continued at high speed and it wasn't until Gryffindor were forty points up, that Slytherin scored their first goal.

"The seekers have seen it!" exclaimed Lommy suddenly, hopping up and down as though on hot coals. "Look at them, they're diving."

The whole stadium watched with baited breath as the two seekers streaked after the tiny golden ball. Then… CRUNCH! Both seekers collided with a Gryffindor chaser, from whose nose now spurted crimson fluid. Amongst the chaos, the snitch disappeared and Slytherin scored another goal. Madame Hooch blew her whistle for time out and the Gryffindors gathered around their injured teammate.

"I hope she's okay," whispered Catherine.

"She will be," Llew assured her. "Look Madame Hooch has stopped the bleeding."

"Our seeker looks a bit dizzy," stated Lommy, worried. "He's struggling to stay upright, look."

Indeed he was. The seeker clad in red and gold certainly looked wobbly and when the game continued he looked as though he might fall off his broom.

One of the Slytherin beaters hovered close by the seeker, taunting him. Whatever he said, though, caused the seeker to snap and he dived towards the beater, looking livid. The Slytherin beater dodged out of the way and as he turned around to taunt him again, saw to his horror, that the Gryffindor seeker had the golden snitch clasped in his hand.

The scream that erupted from the Gryffindors could have been heard from miles away. Catherine continued to watch the seeker, who finally looked like he had had enough and passed out. The Gryffindor beaters, however, were close at hand and guided their unconscious friend safely to the ground.

That night the celebrations in the common room were incredible. Catherine had never experienced such a party and once the seeker returned to the common room, fresh from the hospital wing, the response was deafening.

"I knew we would win," Lommy practically sang. "I knew it, I just knew it!"

Catherine made her way up to the dormitory to find Kate, who was sat on her bed, looking anxious.

"Is he okay?" asked Kate fearfully, referring to the seeker.

"He's fine," smiled Catherine. "He just came back from the hospital and is being drowned by excitable people." She sighed with relief. "Why don't you come and enjoy the celebrations?"

"I'd feel bad, I wasn't there to support them," she whispered.

"That doesn't matter, you're a Gryffindor, which means you are welcome in the party," said Catherine firmly.

"I think I'll give it a miss this time," replied Kate. "But you go down."

Catherine returned to the party only to gather some food and inform the two boys that she was retiring to the dormitory for Kate, before returning to the room and handing Kate some of what she gathered.

"Well we can bring the party up here then and have our own midnight feast." Kate grinned in appreciation.

Over in the Slytherin common room, there was silence. The Slytherin team had mostly disappeared off to bed in shame and the dim green glow of the dungeons seemed even gloomier than normal. Tom Riddle, however, was sitting in an arm chair, thinking about a new spell that he wanted to try. It was the leg-locker curse and he had seen someone from Hufflepuff fall victim to it by a third year. He had not attended the match today, because he didn't care for sports, but had been studying in the Library. He had liked the peacefulness of the castle when the rest of the school had been watching the match and suddenly felt overcrowded by the returning party. In many ways he didn't care that the team had lost.

He slipped his wand from his robes and pointed it at the legs of Mulciber.

"Locomotor Mortis," he muttered and the curse worked perfectly. Mulciber's legs bound together and he wobbled where he stood and toppled over. Those watching laughed and then looked around for who had cast the spell. Tom stood up, performed the counter spell and allowed the boy to stand up. Mulciber was laughing too, now and looked mildly impressed.

"Did you do that," he asked, amazed.

"I did," grinned Tom. "I didn't realise how effective it would be."

His little trick had raised the morale of the common room and he spent much of the evening being praised for his good spell work. Some of his own year, who followed him around like pets looked fascinated by him. He could get used to this. Already, he had people who admired him and hung onto his every word as though their life depended on it. This would aid him for his plan; they could be used for his purposes. His new pets would be very useful.


	6. Chapter 6

_I thought this chapter would be perfect timing since Christmas is just around the corner. I hope this gets you into the Christmas Spirit_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 6**

As the Hogwarts Express carried them home, Catherine and Lommy talked excitedly of the family Christmases they could expect.

"Mum does this huge Turkey that could feed about twenty people and we eat until we're almost exploding," Lommy informed her happily. "It's the best family day of the year."

"Isn't it just?" Catherine grinned. "We can see each other over the holidays too, it will be amazing."

"I can't believe we've lived so near to each other this whole time," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "Llew and Kate should have a good Christmas together though, since they're staying at Hogwarts."

"I'm not sure the same goes for Tom," sighed Catherine.

"Oh, him?" answered Lommy distastefully. "He'll be fine. His cronies are staying to keep him company, so is that Hornby girl."

"She doesn't like me," mused Catherine lightly.

"None of them like any of us," frowned Lommy. "Slytherins are just weird like that."

"Tom likes me," argued Catherine playfully. "They suffer a lot of prejudice."

"One day you'll see him for what he is," sighed Lommy. "A Slytherin."

"See, that's prejudice," she pointed out.

"Maybe," nodded Lommy. Then he added in an undertone. "But I still don't like him."

Catherine threw a chocolate frog box at him in response. It was a good shot and caught him on the forehead.

"Ow," he complained. Then he looked inside the box and pulled out a card. "Oh brilliant, I don't have this one." They both laughed.

During the Christmas holidays, Catherine kept her promise by sending letters to Tom.

_Dear Tom_

_It feels so brilliant to see my family again. I've told them all about you and they think we are right to fight against house prejudice. We are getting the decorations up and tomorrow my dad is going out to find and cut down a Christmas tree for the sitting room._

_How is everything at Hogwarts? You have to tell me what Christmas is like there. Hope you are okay._

_Catherine_

Back at Hogwarts, Tom received his letters and replied quickly, informing Catherine of the decorations and festivities. True, he didn't mention that Christmas wasn't exactly his favourite time of year, but told her that he was having the best Christmas he had ever experienced; which was true. The orphanage had never been brimming with Christmas spirit.

He also hinted at the fact that he was probably having a much better time at Hogwarts than she could possibly be having at her house, which she playfully argued with.

One morning, as he was sat in the Great Hall, Morosaether swooped down before him and dropped a neatly wrapped present with Catherine's handwriting on the side bearing the words: _To Tom, Merry Christmas._

It was a Christmas present; an actual Christmas present. He was stunned. Never before had he received so much as a card, not even on his birthdays. A strange sensation was building inside him and slowly, he removed the letter from the owl's leg.

"What are you smiling about?" asked Olive, sitting across from him. She glanced at the parcel then her eyes narrowed. "Is that from that Gryffindor girl? The Mudblood?"

"Catherine did send it, indeed," nodded Tom, not making eye contact with her. "May I ask why you refer to her as Mudblood?" he asked politely, genuinely curious with the term. He had heard it used several times, but never bothered to find out its meaning. He understood it to be an insult, however.

"Dirty blood," shrugged Olive. "Her parents are both muggles, meaning she hasn't got a drop of pure blood inside her. You need some pure blood inside you to even be Slytherin."

"I knew that," nodded Tom. "What makes you think she has muggle parents?"

"Doesn't she?" asked Olive. Tom shrugged, he had never asked. "I can just tell. She's that sort. Mudbloods like to steal magic. That's why we have squibs. They're dirty and tainted thieves, my dad says. Salazar wanted to rid the school of them and he was right to."

Tom opened the letter from Catherine and read it. His expression darkened as he read the final line: _I'm seeing Lommy today, it's so weird we live this nearby_. Lombard? She was spending Christmas with that loser? The words dirty and tainted spun around his mind.

"Switch," muttered Tom.

"Blood traitor," she hissed. "Their family are just as bad at the _Weasleys_."

"What and who?"

"Blood traitors are pure blood wizards who are in league with mudbloods and muggles. They're a lower class of citizens. The Weasley's are notorious blood traitors. Everyone knows that. They don't have anyone in Hogwarts at the moment, but my father is always talking about Bilius Weasley. He's an embarrassment to the wizarding community."

"That's not true," piped up an annoyed voice.

"What are you doing over here, get to your own table, McGonagall," hissed Abril Malfoy, a second year, in disgust. The girl seemed to be a second year also and she turned on her heel to join another Gryffindor girl. Malfoy had been listening to the conversation it seemed. "She is a bit of a blood traitor too; so is that Longbottom girl. They make me sick. They're filth. As for him," he indicated a scruffy red-headed boy. "He's just vile. Mundungus Fletcher."

Tom looked at him and felt a sense of mild disgust. "Filth," repeated Abril darkly.

Tom arose to leave, feeling he had enough information from these people. He wanted to go to the Library and find out more about Salazar Slytherin and his dislike for muggleborns. Had Olive been trying to tell him that associating with Catherine made him some sort of blood traitor? He didn't like that one bit. He was also annoyed that Catherine was seeing Switch over the holidays and as a response, did not reply to any more of her letters. If she missed him, that was her lookout. She chose to go back over stopping at Hogwarts, so she could deal with the consequences. His thoughts towards Catherine seemed to steadily darken.

Although mildly concerned that Tom hadn't replied, Catherine had a wonderful Christmas.

Her family made an extra special effort and they spent Christmas Eve with the Switchs, enjoying a magical display put on by Lommy's parents. Her own mum and dad loved the colourful sparkles and flashing lights produced by the thin wands and expressed a certain pride in their only child's magical abilities. They demanded details of Hogwarts and listened in fascination as both children described the wonders of the castle. Lommy's father added his own memories and experiences of Hogwarts, with stories that had them all crying with laughter.

That night, the Mills family returned home and Catherine went to bed feeling excited for the morning. She lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come and wishing it was tomorrow already.

Catherine opened her eyes and suddenly realised that she had in fact, slept. She jumped out of bed and seized a stocking from the bedpost before running into her parent's room.

"It's Christmas!" she exclaimed, as she hopped onto the bed and nestled in-between them. In her stocking she found a chocolate bar, an orange and a pretty new quill with ink that could write in different colours. She was thrilled.

As the three of them went into the living room, Catherine saw three piles of presents, the largest of which was her own. She wasted no time in the unwrapping.

They attended Church that morning and Catherine felt a little sad that she wasn't going to be part of the Nativity as she had been every other year. All the same, they sang the carols, her dad's voice carrying and echoing over the rest of the congregation and celebrated the day with many others.

For Christmas dinner, the whole family arrived in order to feast on the large, succulent Christmas turkey. The meal was superb and by the time Christmas pudding was served, Catherine was sure she would burst. However, she did what her father always taught her to do and soldiered on; never letting a good Christmas feast going to waste.

The day had been, unquestionably perfect. She had seen everyone she loved, eaten her own weight in food and received a pile of wonderful presents, including a chess set from the Switchs, in which Lommy had left a note, promising that he would teach her the rules when they next saw each other. That night, Catherine lay in bed feeling extremely happy. Without much effort, she slipped into a peaceful sleep with a small smile still lingering on her face.


	7. Chapter 7

_I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas like Catherine and that you enjoy this next instalment. In the previous chapter, we caught a glimpse of Tom's darkened thoughts. Enjoy._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 7**

The first moment Catherine's eyes locked with Tom's on returning to Hogwarts, she knew she was in trouble. His stare became a glare, emitting a certain icy quality that Catherine didn't know was possible. His already dark eyes blackened, causing her to shudder at the lack of humanity in that gaze. She suddenly felt herself being pulled around forcefully, though the person holding her wrist was not trying to hurt her, merely get her attention.

"Ignore him." It was Lommy. "Don't look like that." Catherine realised her expression was tense and anxious.

"He's mad at me," she told him worriedly.

"He looks dangerous," Lommy told her, throwing a glance at Tom, who was continuing to glower at them. She sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye and realised she was unable to disagree. "Listen, we have just had an amazing Christmas, don't let him spoil it."

Catherine could see that Lommy wanted to point out that Tom was acting like a stereotypical Slytherin, she couldn't trust him and she ought to forget about him. His eyes glittered with resentment towards Tom, but he overrode the desire to express these feelings, so he could avoid upsetting Catherine. She was eternally grateful.

"I can try," mumbled Catherine. She suddenly remembered that Tom had stopped replying to her letters and felt guilty that she hadn't suspected something was wrong at the time. Then she thought about it, what exactly had she done? What _could_ she have done? Everything had been perfectly fine between them until the middle of the Christmas holidays, when he had suddenly stopped sending letters with Morosaether. His beautiful feathered wings had swooped through the open kitchen window four days after Christmas and Catherine had noted the absence of a note. She had assumed that the letter had got lost or perhaps Tom was extremely busy and thought little of it. In fact, she had sent at least three more letters to Tom with her continually returning owl, without receiving any replies from him. How could she not have seen that there was a problem then? How could she have been so stupid?

"Catherine," groaned Lommy, tugging her arm again. She rearranged her preoccupied expression into a smile that suddenly became genuine, much to Lommy's surprise, as she looked over his shoulder. Kate, with her fair ringlets bobbing on her shoulder and Llew, with his light hair swept to one side, were approaching, looking delighted to see them. It was interesting to realise how much closer the two friends had clearly become and similarly she realised the same had occurred with herself and Lommy. Somehow, seeing the two friends, who both gave off a sense of absolute calm, contrasted with Lommy, who in many respects was more like herself, gave her the feeling that she was where she belonged. It was as though their little group had always meant to be united because of the perfect way they all fit together as friends and individuals. No one was left out, no one felt alone. Being with all three of her best friends was a surprising relief, like a gust of cool breeze on a hot face in height of summer; or more appropriately a cosy sitting room with a cracking fire on a cold winter's day: warm, safe. She contemplated this, finding it interesting. What did she consider to be the cold winter's day that her friends made her feel safe from?

Catherine was not the sort of person who appreciated being ignored for no apparent reason and decided that she would speak to Tom the first chance she got. It was surprisingly easy, since they shared so many classes together. During potions the following day, Catherine kept her eyes on the back of Tom's head, as though willing him with mere sight, to turn and look at her. Although Tom did not glance around, Hornby, who was sat beside him, shot her a few rude glares and nudged Tom, probably to tell him that Catherine was staring. The third time Olive looked around, Lommy, who was sat beside Llew on the table nearest to the door, carefully aimed a black beetle eye at her, which bounced on the top of her head. Catherine tried not to laugh, despite the fact that the Gryffindors who had seen the small occurrence were giggling into their hands. This included Kate who was sat to the left of Catherine.

"My, my," exclaimed Slughorn. "We have had an overdose of chuckling serum. What is so funny?" No one responded, mainly because the very few people actually knew who had thrown the beetle eye were Gryffindors and others hadn't even realised that anything amusing had taken place. After a silent pause, Slughorn decided not to press the subject and carried on teaching about ingredients that should never be mixed. Catherine shot a look at Lommy, which she realised was an appreciative one. Suddenly, she registered that the dislike Oliver Hornby harboured for her, was completely mutual. Someone that she had an active aversion to? Interesting; that was new.

Five minutes prior to the end of class, she carefully and quietly packed away her things so she could jump up and speak to Tom before he could hurry away. As it was, she needn't have bothered. Once the bell rang, Slughorn called the two of them back as he had in their very first potions lesson and they approached him. Once the stragglers had left, he spoke.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" he asked Catherine warmly. Before she could do more than nod, he was speaking again. "Good, good. We had a very nice gathering, ourselves, in the Slug Club, didn't we, Tom?" Tom barely inclined his head stiffly. "It's a shame you couldn't be with us, but I trust you enjoyed seeing your family. As it is, we have got another meeting a week on Tuesday…" Slughorn gabbled on with arrangements that sounded identical to every other gathering they had previously had. Once he had finished, he dismissed them, with a light comment about how they shouldn't let the end of the Christmas season dampen their spirits. As they left the classroom, Tom began to walk away, but Catherine called after him.

"Wait!" she almost pleaded. The tone of her voice surprised even her. It only just occurred to her how much she hated not being on speaking terms with Tom. He turned his head.

"Yes?" he asked in a dead voice.

"Did you get my present?" she asked. Why had she said that? He looked suddenly taken aback at her words.

"I…" His emotionless mask was shattered and he struggled for words. "I haven't… opened it."

"Oh," Catherine replied feeling a little hurt, but trying not to show it. "Oh that's okay."

"I'm sorry," he said, with that same lost look. Catherine had been convinced that it was going be _her_ that needed to apologise for whatever had caused him to avoid her and this turn of events was completely confusing. It was as though she had unknowingly disarmed his only defence.

"I think I need to apologise," muttered Catherine after a moment.

"Why?" he asked, but in a way that suggested he was asking himself more than he was her. She just shrugged. Truthfully, she didn't know what she had done. After a moment he shrugged too and spoke again. "Do you want to go for a walk in the grounds, since the Great Hall is hardly the best place to catch up?"

"Yes," she grinned, feeling immediately elated.

That evening, Tom entered his dormitory and found the small package Catherine had given him for Christmas under his bed, where he had originally thrown it carelessly. The sight of it and the hurt look he had seen on Catherine's face when he had admitted he hadn't opened it, gave him a painful sensation in his chest that he didn't recognise. He reasoned that at least he hadn't thrown it away, despite the fact that he had been angry enough to. He pondered this; why hadn't he just dropped it in the fire? Was it the fact that no one else had ever given him a present before? That concerned him and he worried that these feelings were weak. Nevertheless, Tom unwrapped the present and found a small brown diary with his name inscribed on the inside page. There was no date on the diary and Catherine had enclosed a note informing him that he could pick any year he wanted to actually use it and there was a special memory charm allowing him to store several years of information that could only be revealed by him and would be invisible to anyone who tried to read it. If he had said he didn't like it, he would have been lying. A place where he could offload his secrets without fearing anyone else knowing, was very appealing to him. It was… perfect. Another feeling tugged at his chest, equally as strong as the previous emotion although more positive.

He opened it to today's date, then retrieved a quill and a fresh bottle of black ink. He then removed a library book he had borrowed from his bag, entitled _Salazar Slytherin_ and opened it to the chapter about muggleborns.

He transferred the information he found most interesting into the diary until the first page, written in his perfect script, read as thus:

_Salazar Slytherin's Nobel Quest (chapter four of Salazar Slytherin)_

_As the head of his house, he wished for a school with students of cunning, ambition but most prominently the purest heritage. His disagreement with other founders caused him to leave the school, which is widely believed to be the cause of house rivalry. He was clearly an influential, followed and powerful man to have caused such disruption._

_I need to research the Legend of the Chamber of secrets in Hogwarts: A History, which is something to do with Slytherin's attempt at ridding the school of muggleborns. Apparently he has a monster locked up in the castle that kills them, somehow. Imagine the power he had. There is so much that I could learn from him, I can become more. I'm not quite sure as to why he wanted to kill muggleborns. Oliver Hornby voiced the idea of them being thieves. Is that true? Or just an excuse? Perhaps a sort of economy, something that serves as an excuse, but isn't the real reason._

Tom looked at the instalment, re-read it, then the words faded back into the page. He knew that they would reappear for him should he want to browse through his comments again. Salazar was clearly a famed, powerful man, but he had failed, he had not rid the school of muggleborns. Tom intended to set goals and reach them. He could be better than the founder of Hogwarts, more powerful, maybe even feared so that if he gave an opinion and order, people would agree without question, rather than argue with him, as the other founders had done to Salazar. He was a good start for a role model, but still too weak. Tom would aspire for more, people would idolise him one day, but never be as powerful.

Salazar Slytherin. He pondered the name, realising it sounded like the name of a powerful man, or maybe that was more due to the fame and lasting influence of Slytherin house that would make the name seem powerful. It hissed like a snake when spoken and invoked admiration from his house and dislike from the rest, despite the fact that he was long dead. His name radiated strength and fame.

Tom Riddle. He was an ordinary boy, nothing much to look at, a name too nondescript to remember. Riddle, was more bearable, in that he liked to consider himself complicated but… Tom? Toms were everywhere. Whether magical or none magical there was always a Tom close at hand. Why, there was even one in the Leaky Cauldron! Tom was not the name of a powerful man. It was not the name of a great sorcerer. It was just Tom; the same name as his filthy muggle of a father. For, in the first few months at Hogwarts, Tom had searched every inch of the castle for his father's name. He was forced to conclude that he was a muggle and that he had abandoned him, without ever intending to find him; probably without knowing of his existence. When Tom had told Catherine that family only lets you down, he had been thinking of his father. Perhaps he wasn't an orphan at all. Maybe Tom Riddle Senior was out there somewhere, living his life without a care in the world. Maybe he had a wife he was loyal to and had children that he actually wanted. That would be fitting, thought Tom to himself. He was half-blood and probably half-orphaned. Was it not possible that he may be a half-brother to some unknown _muggle_ sibling? It was hard to explain, but after he realised his father was not magical, he had hated him. It was deep and fiery and forgiveness wasn't even an option. But the idea of having a little brother or sister, he wasn't sure how to comprehend. If they even existed, should he protect them? Or hate them as much as he did his father?

Somewhere inside of him, a voice asked him why he was so bothered about his father. Why it angered him that there may be a young boy or girl out there, his younger brother or sister, who had the attentions and care of a father that he had never experienced. The little voice wanted to know why these feelings had only manifested themselves so recently, despite the fact he had spent so long without a parent; despite the fact that he had known nothing but loneliness as long as he could remember. The feeling had sparked into a deeper frenzy ever since Christmas, ever since Catherine had left him to see her family, to see a mother who loved her and a father who protected her. At first, Tom had been angry that she had left… why? Perhaps it felt like being abandoned again and that another person would rather leave than spend time with him. Or maybe he had resented Catherine for the having parents, which she had accused him of. Catherine had a muggle father that didn't desert her, on learning of her magic, but stood by her proudly. However, that didn't explain why Switch could get under his skin so thoroughly. Lombard Switch had become a lot closer to Catherine over the holidays and Tom hadn't realised the scale of this until their walk in the grounds where Catherine had given extremely detailed accounts of her Christmas. Hearing someone talk of the festive season so joyfully had begun a sort of yearning inside Tom. He wanted to feel it too. Inside his head was still a young boy, who craved affection but equally there was another existence; a growing, mutating creature who was ambitious, increasingly possessive and repulsed by weakness of any sort. This creature had been with him for so very long and had been the more dominant part of his mind. It taught him to not be afraid and to keep going. It almost completely convinced him that emotions such as love, were weak and success was the only emotion worth feeling. The emotionless creature had taken a stronger grasp of Tom's already brilliant mind, intending to lead him to victory. It was the part of him who needed a new name, who hated having anything in common with anyone and who wanted power. The less dominant part of his mind, the child, however, still existed and had almost regained control of Tom on certain occasions. Well, occasions that he was with Catherine. The creature argued that this was a weakness, but he could ignore that for now. She wouldn't stop him from succeeding in his plans and one day she may also be useful, he reasoned with himself.

That night, Tom lay in bed, turning it over in his mind. A new name and a fixed direction, he'd decided. He would create his new identity, which the creature in his head approved of and would ensure weakness was kept to a bare minimum. He would also study the Legend of the Chamber of Secrets, thinking that if there really was a monster lurking in the castle, he could find it.

Catherine sat on her four poster bed, talking to Kate about the situation with Tom. Unlike Lommy, Kate did not immediately judge Tom for being a Slytherin and admitted that she had never actually seen him do anything wrong.

"I mean," Kate said quietly. "I get why Lommy has a problem with him, you just need to look at people like Hornby or Mulciber, his friends, but I don't think it's right to tar everyone with the same brush. He's good at just about everything, but he never gloats. He could do, he has the scope to, but he doesn't. I think Lommy's problem may be a boy thing. He doesn't want to be reasoned with. He's made his decision and sticking to it."

"It's nice to know you see my point," smiled Catherine, but then she looked more closely at her friend. "You don't like him though, do you? You're just trying to be a good listener and friend."

"I don't trust him," shrugged Kate. "Like hasn't anything to do with it, I don't know him. Just some of the things you tell me he says… well no one else ever sees that side of him. It's like he has a secret identity. I'm just worried you'll get in too deep."

"You sound paranoid," laughed Catherine, unperturbed by Kate's opinion. Kate Trelawney, despite having reservations about Tom, was making the effort to understand her point of view and listening to what she said. That's really all a friend can ask of someone and it was enough.

"I know, I know," smiled Kate, as though things had become too serious as she was ready to accept an explanation that was less complex and worrying.

"What does Llew think?" Catherine wondered aloud.

"He's a true Gryffindor, but he's much the same as me," Kate told her. "Except I don't think he really worries about it much. He told me he trusted your judgement and that you wouldn't be friends with someone who was a threat, or anything." Catherine felt a rush of appreciation to the friend she was least close to and decided she would make effort to spend equal time with Llew as she did the others. The conversation moved away from Tom, then and it wasn't long before they got ready for bed and fell asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what you think so far!<em>


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and everyone who is following this story. This chapter dedicated to you. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 8**

After Christmas, nothing much happened. Catherine became closer to all four of her best friends and the months seemed to fly by, quickly approaching the exams. Tom continued his research but was unable to find a copy of Hogwarts: A History for the following two months. When he finally got a copy, the book didn't tell him anything more than he already knew.

In the week before the exam, Catherine was feeling extremely nervous and simply couldn't understand how Tom could be so calm.

The beginnings of summer brought excellent weather and Tom agreed to revise with Catherine for the upcoming exams, under a tree in the Hogwarts grounds. The sun shone gently, glittering on the surface of the wide lake, which was enclosed by high mountains and hills. In the winter, the peaks had been invisible due to mist, but now their grand profiles stood sharply against the horizon, reflecting in the glassy surface of the water. The grass was pleasantly springy beneath them and the smell of summer flowers began to augment the air.

Catherine stretched out under the tree; holding a revision book for Transfiguration and looking as though she would much rather sunbathe.

"I can't do it," Catherine complained, after Tom had tested her on some of the theory.

"Yes you can." Tom didn't speak the words encouragingly; they sounded more like an order. Catherine closed her eyes, turning her head towards the sun and smiled. "Catherine, you're not even trying."

"I'm not an exam person," she replied trying to absorb as much sunlight as was possible. The warmth was only slight as the air will still fairly cool and breezy.

"Oh Catherine," he sighed. She looked at him as he shook his head in exasperation. Tom was completely concealed in the shadow of the tree and was making no effort to gain warmth from the sun.

"Fine," groaned Catherine, sitting up straighter. "Ask me another one."

After an hour of concentration, they returned to the castle. They both walked straight past the Great Hall without even a glance, which had become habit after being friends for this long and being used to the judgemental glares from the rival houses. They proceeded up the stairs.

"I'm going to fail," Catherine burst out suddenly. "I'm not good enough, they'll throw me out because I'm so useless!"  
>"Where's this come from?" demanded Tom. "We were doing really well."<p>

"I'm scared sick," she admitted.

"Your problem isn't ability; it's confidence," he told her firmly.

"Is that why you're not worried?" she asked. "Wait, no, it's because you're amazing at everything. Well some of us aren't that perfect Tom."

"Listen," he murmured. "You can do this. You know it, I know it."

She smiled at him and was about to reply when Dumbledore interrupted.

"Good afternoon," he smiled, eyeing Tom, who sighed quietly in exasperation. He then walked past them and continued to wherever he was going.

"He keeps doing that," frowned Catherine. "Then in class he keeps asking me if I'm okay."

"I've noticed," grimaced Tom. "He's getting on my nerves."

"Isn't it about time he moved on from his problem?" she asked. "He doesn't do what he says. He isn't trying to encourage house unity with us. What makes us so different? Yes, yes, I know about the orphanage thing, but really?"

"It's nice to hear someone actually back me up," smiled Tom.

"I thought everyone in your house loved you," laughed Catherine.

"It's a house unity thing," shrugged Tom. "Your support actually means something."

"Don't you start on the house unity rubbish," she giggled as they finally continued to walk.

On the second floor, Tom froze, but Catherine had not noticed until she had continued a good six paces. She looked around and his face was strange.

"What-?" she began, but he raised a white finger to silence her, as though he was listening very carefully to something. Confused, Catherine listened to the sounds around her, in the hope she would pick up on what he could hear. She heard distant voices, a sort of rustling sound, the groan of a moving staircase and a whoosh that could easily have been the wind.

"Did you hear that?" Tom demanded after two long minutes of silence.

"What the wind?" she asked playfully, then seeing the look on his face, her own expression became immediately serious. Any notions of this being a strange joke were immediately gone.

"No," he replied. "That's not what I meant. You're not telling me you didn't hear it?"

"Hear what?" she asked, worried now. He didn't reply. "Tom!"

"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, shaking his head. "It's not a problem."

"But-"

"Don't ask me about it," Tom commanded instantly. Catherine knew that something was very wrong but decided not to press the subject. For the rest of the day, however, she saw Tom being perfectly still every so often, as though straining his ears to hear whatever it was that had bothered him so much.

The exams were nowhere near the horrors that Catherine had anticipated. Naturally, Tom had become top of the year, receiving open admiration from his housemates but Catherine had done better than she'd expected.

She realised, with a heavy heart, that the summer holidays were soon to start and she knew that she would miss the castle deeply.

In the final week, she had become seriously concerned with the way Tom had begun to behave. It was obsessive and desperate, but he wouldn't tell her why. She sat in the Gryffindor common room with Llew, talking to him about the situation.

"He's a smart guy," shrugged Llew. "Now the exams are done, he needs something to occupy his mind."

"It started before the exams, though," she told him worriedly.

"Little Catherine!" called a friendly male voice across the common room.

"Big Al! she replied to the seventh year boy, Moody.

"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation," he smiled, sitting in the armchair across from her and Llew. "Need a voice of experience?"

Alastor Moody, over the past year had become like a big brother, who always had some advice up his sleeve.

"You'll just tell me it's a _Slytherin_ thing," grumbled Catherine playfully.

"I've taught you well." He winked.

"Forget that, anyway," smiled Catherine. "How did the exams go? Do you think it's an auror's life for you?"

"Well, I wouldn't like to say-" began Al with a smirk but Llew interrupted.

"Of course it is," he laughed. "It's written all over your face."

"Yeah," Catherine added. "You did really well and you know it."

"Well, I will send you an owl when the results come, shall I?" he asked. "And while we're on the subject of owls, if ever you need my advice, don't hesitate to write." He gave her a brief hug and then joined Cindy, as she was leaving through the portrait hall. Catherine felt extremely touched.

"It's a good thing the wizarding community will have him to protect it," smiled Llew, genuinely. "You know, when he realised we were friends, he spent two solid hours helping me revise for that potions exam. I probably owe him for half of my marks."

"He's just so patient," agreed Catherine. "You'd expect older students to want nothing to do with you, but he and Cindy have been helping me out from day one."

Llew laughed at this, recalling the story of Catherine and the non-opening portrait; one that she was still not shaking off. Lommy in particular enjoyed stepping in front of her when they were leaving Gryffindor tower and offering to show her how to open it.

"No joke better than an in joke," chuckled Llew. "Dad always says that. He reckons it's little things like this that strengthen relationships with people."

Catherine smiled; she liked that.

"I agree with him," she replied.

The final week dissolved and the Hogwarts Express waited, with steam pouring out, for the students to jump aboard and return home for the summer. The seventh years had said their final goodbyes to everyone and many made sad comments about this being their last journey on the red steam engine.

Catherine and her three Gryffindor friends found a compartment and she felt a rush of emotion when she compared this feeling to the one she'd had nearly a year before, when she'd looked at her own reflection in the window, feeling completely alone. She was with three incredibly loyal, close friends and knew that she loved them, as though they were an extension to her family.

Morosaether had flown ahead, since the absence of a cage would have made the walk through Kings Cross Station a little tricky. However, Lommy's originally named owl, Hooty, was placed in a cage in the corner of the compartment, clicking his beak hungrily. Whenever the others teased him about the owl's name, he grudgingly told them that he had been six when he'd christened the owl and that they shouldn't judge him on that.

"Here you go," Lommy muttered, feeding him a treat through the bars of the cage.

After about half an hour, a bunch of troublemakers appeared in their compartment. It was four Slytherins of their age, led by Mulciber.

"Get out," said Lommy, with a voice of forced calm. He then saw one of the Slytherins pull a dungbomb from his pocket and stood up. He leapt to his feet and whipped out his wand. "Drop that and I'll turn you into a slug!"

"What is going on?" asked a familiar voice from behind the crowd of Slytherins. Tom came into view and caught Catherine's pleading gaze. The Slytherins all noticed his arrival and watched him attentively. "Don't bother," Tom ordered, looking at the boy with the dungbomb. He immediately put the thing away and slumped out of the compartment as though looking defeated. "Leave please."

The Slytherins did what they were told and hurried away. Catherine was amazed.

"Well, firstly… thanks," she said perplexed. "And secondly… what?"

"Those things are just childish," Tom shrugged.

"How did you know they'd do as you asked?" she wondered aloud.

"I didn't," answered Tom, but expression showed that this revelation had opened exciting possibilities to him. "Well I came to say goodbye, for the summer."

"Go talk to him," mouthed Llew, ignoring the look of disapproval from Lommy. She did. She and Tom found a quiet compartment and spent an hour talking about the summer. Catherine said that she wanted to visit him over the holidays, but he insisted that it wouldn't be allowed. They would just have to wait until next term. He seemed a bit disappointed with this, but Catherine wondered if Tom just didn't want her to see him in the terrible orphanage he was trapped it. Hadn't he once said that he didn't want pity?

Once the steam engine had stopped safely on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Catherine seized her trunk and left with her three Gryffindor friends. She received a brief hug from Lommy, though he reminded her that they would see a lot of each other over the holidays and longer embraces from Llew and Kate in turn. Kate's eyes were watery by the time she was hugging Catherine.

"Don't cry, Kate," smiled Catherine, patting her on the back kindly. "You haven't got rid of us yet! There's still six years of Hogwarts."

"I know," she sniffed. "I'll just really miss you guys over the summer."

"We'll write," promised Catherine. "And we can arrange to go to Diagon Alley at the same time."

"Who knows," added Lommy. "We might be able to meet up at some point."

"Let me remind you that I do live in Wales," Llew laughed.

"So?" frowned Kate. They all laughed and tangled themselves in a group hug. From over Llew's shoulder, Catherine spotted Tom, who was watching the group, with a forlorn expression. Catherine gently pulled away from her friends and approached him. She didn't try to give him a hug.

"Well, I'll see you in a couple of months," she smiled. "And I'll write before then."

"Maybe you should send letters the muggle way to me," suggested Tom quietly. "I think the orphanage children might notice an owl swooping through the window."

"Sure," smiled Catherine.

As smart as this plan had been, it wasn't until she stretched out in her own bed that evening, that Catherine realised she didn't have the address for Tom's orphanage. However, Catherine had the distinct impression he didn't want to receive letters by owl. Well, he would just have to deal with that, because she was writing to him either way.

Tom looked up at the dismal building that he had spent all of his pre-Hogwarts years in. His expression was one of unmistakeable distaste. It was gloomier than he recollected and as he hauled his heavy trunk through the door, the dull, familiar hallway reminded him drearily of his hatred for the place.

"Welcome back, Tom," said the sharp Mrs Cole unenthusiastically. It dawned on Tom how truly alone he was here. She was eyeing him with suspicion.

"Thank you, Mrs Cole," he answered politely. Her eyes widened in shock, which greatly entertained him.

"I'm afraid you're in a different room, Tom," she told him carefully. "Since you're only staying with us a short while at a time."

"Okay, that won't be a problem," he nodded, unsurprised.

"Oh… well," she seemed wrong footed and therefore flustered. She told him where his new sleeping quarters was, which incidentally was the smallest room in the establishment (aside from the closet) and he dragged his trunk into the room. He sighed heavily as he flopped down onto the bed.

Tom lay there until Mrs Cole knocked on the door, insisting he came for some food. He trudged down the stairs and everyone looked at him in silence as he entered the room. Billy Stubbs' round face glared at him, but couldn't keep eye contact when Tom looked his way. The rabbit in the rafter incident… he'd almost forgotten. It hadn't actually been his intention to cause the animal's death, but he had been angry at Billy, when it sort of happened. He realised, though, that he had not experienced remorse. Catherine didn't know about this one. He also noticed Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, who were looking at him fearfully. Once upon a time, he had led these unsuspecting children down a cliff face into a cave. Once inside he'd tried to impress them with showers of sparks and flames, but it had only resulted in frightening the weaklings. He'd told Mrs Cole they'd merely been exploring and the other two never spoke of it and so could never discredit his story. How long ago it all seemed. He suddenly felt more alone than ever.

The meal was quiet and incredibly awkward and once Tom had finished, he hastily retired to his room and lay awake more that he actually slept.

Over the next few weeks, he settled back into the dismal life of the orphanage, although, he admittedly spent as much time as possible outside of the place. He kept himself to himself.

Although he had originally not wanted owls turning up at the orphanage all the time, he felt a deep sense of gratitude when Morosaether swooped down on him while he sat in the park one day and he pulled the letter from the owl's leg hurriedly.

_Dear Tom_

_Since you don't want owls dropping in every few days, I told Morosaether to wait until you were clear of the orphanage to pass this onto you, since you never gave me the address and left me no choice!_

Tom felt a certain amount of amusement. He had the distinct impression he was being told off. Nevertheless, he had changed his mind on the muggle post plan. He didn't want Catherine to have the address to his current living quarters in case she took it upon herself to come and visit him, which he knew to be the sort of thing she would do. He refused to let Catherine set eyes on this awful place and he was going to stand his ground on this one. He read on.

_Anyway, it's nice to be in a place where no one knows what Gryffindor and Slytherin are, it's just a shame you're not here to enjoy the benefits of it with me. I'm already missing you!_

_Catherine_

Already missing him? Was she just saying that or did she mean it? No one had ever missed him before now and he felt another of those strange feelings in his chest. The voice of the creature told him to stop being weak and his teeth ground together at the conflicting emotions. The active creature reminded him of his preoccupation at Hogwarts. He clearly recalled the day on the second floor, when a sound had reached his ears, but not Catherine's.

"_Tom,_" hissed a voice behind him. He jumped and turned to see a grass snake slithering beside him. He recognised the creature, they had spoken before now. "_I'm ssssorry if I ssssscared you!"_

"That's okay," he murmured to the snake. "I'm not used to it anymore."

"That'sssss right," the snake replied. "You haven't been here in sssssso long."

"I've been away," he told it. "I'm not stopping for long before I return to Hogwarts. I'm a wizard, you know. That's why we can talk like this. But apparently it's rare. No one else can do it, not since Salazar Slytherin."

"We have legends of Ssssalazzzzzar Sssslytherin," whispered the snake. "He is known as the ssssserpent tongue. Many ssssspoke to him and the sssstories are passed down, especially the one about the king."

"I've missed our conversations," Tom sighed. "I remember when you were the only one I could talk to."

"Yessssss," hissed the snake. "Your kind are too emotional, I've tried to make you sssssee our way. Sssself preservation, ssssuccess and sssslyness are key."

"At Hogwarts, I've made friends and for want of a better word… followers," Tom informed it. "It's amazing the difference between talking with people and talking with snakes. Your kind are so much sharper, much less trusting… like me."

"Humansss will insist on sssstaying together," sighed the snake. "Our kind prefer to travel ssssolo. They've had an effect on you, my friend. Ssssomeone has made you want to go over to their waysssss."

"Excuse me," glared Tom. "I've always done things for myself, just like you."

"Yesss," agreed the snake. "Once, you would have made a better ssssnake than boy, but ssssomething is different. Who sssssent you the letter that made you sssssmile?"

"Honestly, I came here for a bit of peace and I have you hissing down my ear," growled Tom defensively.

"I can sssssee, you're not in the mood to talk to me," sighed the snake. "Another time, my friend. Seeee you."

Tom shook his head in indignation. That was the second time in ten minutes that someone had told him off. Interestingly they had each told different sides of him off. Catherine may as well have told the creature to hibernate, whereas the snake had insisted that the human boy ought to go to his bedroom. Metaphorically, of course.

Then suddenly, a thought hit him and everything seemed to click into place; the sound on the second floor, Catherine unable to hear, Salazar Slytherin's abilities that matched Toms, the monster inside the castle and finally, the snake and his reference to a king.

"Wait!" yelled Tom, hoping the snake had heard him. A man walking his dog, shot Tom an unnerved look, but continued at the same pace.

"You shouldn't sssspeak our tongue ssssso loudly, Tom," hissed the snake from behind him. "You're kind would get ssssuspicious."

"I still feel like I'm speaking English," shrugged Tom. "Anyway, I wanted to know what you meant by the king."

"The king of sssserpents," replied the snake mysteriously. "The large creature with death in his sssstare. Ssssspiders run in fear when the giant ssssnake is near."

"It has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, doesn't it?" demanded Tom. "It's Salazar Slytherin's monster!"

"The Chamber I do not know, but indeed Ssssalazar befriended the ancient king, who livesssss on, awaiting orders of the descendant of Sssssalazar; another sssserpent tongue."

"Me?" asked Tom, perplexed. "Am I the one?"

But he knew he was. The sound in that corridor… had been a rasping voice.

"_Find me. Join me." _It had sounded aged and somehow far deeper than the voice of this small grass snake. Catherine hadn't heard it because she didn't understand snake language. To her, it would have sounded like hissing, spitting, rustling, whistling or something of the like.

"Yessss," whispered the snake. "I feel it issss you."

"What is the name given to the giant snake?" asked Tom, feeling goose bumps appear all over his arms, back and neck.

"Bassssilissssssk," cooed the snake in admiration.

"Basilisk," Tom repeated to himself, stunned.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Chilling... I hope you're enjoying the story so far! If you are, feel free to review and if you're not, feel free to review as well and let me know what I need to do to improve it!_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 9**

"A basilisk, you say?" asked a highly surprised Librarian, as she viewed a pale, dark haired boy carefully.

"Yes," Tom replied quietly. He was unsure if the term would only be recognisable to wizards, but decided he would try at the local Library to see if there was anything he could find there, first.

"I believe it is some form of mythological creature," she replied uncertainly. "A serpent."

"That sounds like the sort of thing I'm looking for," smiled Tom, politely. "Do you have any books that I could look at with more information about basilisks?"

"Well," she hesitated. "Follow me." She led him into a section of the library and pulled out a slightly battered volume labelled _Mythology_. She flicked through the pages expertly and then her eyes brightened. "Here we are." She handed the book over to Tom, open on the page she had indicated. The first thing that caught his eye was the thick coils of a serpent which were drawn with intricate detail. Tom noted that the creature was looking away from the front, which meant he couldn't see its head. Tiny though the image was, he could imagine the vast size of the snake and felt eager to learn more.

"Thank you," Tom said to the Librarian, who smiled and walked back to her desk. Tom found a place to sit and read the passage.

_The Basilisk_

_Well known to be the king of serpents, the basilisk is a most fascinating creature due to its murderous glare. One direct look into the great snake's eyes causes instant death. Aside from this weapon, the basilisk is armed with venomous fangs and the ability to crush stone with sheer body weight. This huge monster is adapted for killing and it difficult to fight, particularly due to its death stare. No living person knows what a basilisk's face looks like and very few people would survive an encounter with such a beast._

_Members of the Arachnid family are said to flee, whenever a basilisk becomes active in the area. They have a special ability to detect the creature when it resurfaces from hibernation, a sleep that can last centuries, which is believed to release a fear chemical and the need to survive causes the creatures to run._

Tom looked up from the page, emotions a little scattered. If he went looking, literally looking, for the basilisk, he would die. One look would end his life instantly. That unnerved him a little, because it showed him how easy it was to end a mortal life. If he would ever admit to being afraid of something, it was death. However, he was feeling excited, because this was an ancient creature, who had lived in the castle since the days of Salazar Slytherin. This was a creature who he could speak to and who, by the sounds of it, he was destined to use for the work of Salazar Slytherin. A distinct part of himself was eager to be better at Salazar's work that even _he _was but another part of him was afraid of the monster that was spawning in his own head. A creature almost as frightful as the basilisk. This intrigued Tom, because it at least meant he had common ground with the basilisk, just as he had had similar qualities to the grass snake back in the park.

He re-read the passage, ensuring he had the information securely in his mind and returned the book to its rightful place on the shelf. He then ventured towards the library door, thanking the lady on the desk on his way, who smiled back. Recently, he had discovered that a certain tone of politeness tended to get him what he wanted, because it made people feel more at ease. Also it seemed to give people the sense that they were being helpful to a pleasant person, which he realised humans had a weakness for. He was also quite thin and slightly underfed at the orphanage, not to mention his natural good looks, all which contributed to gaining him the sympathy vote, something which makes humans more likely to give you what you ask for. It would be a lie if he said he didn't enjoy exercising this power and he fully intended to use it when he returned to Hogwarts.

After the last encounter with the grass snake, Tom had not returned to the park and had no intention of doing so in a hurry. He wanted to know as much as possible, but he didn't like the feeling he got when the snake spoke to him; as though he was a naughty child that needed discipline. He didn't consider himself to be a child. Children whined and moaned, then fell out over trivial nothings. According to Mrs Cole, even as a baby, Tom had not cried often and he had always felt superior, maturity wise, to the other young people in the orphanage.

Unfortunately, he couldn't consider himself to be an adult, simply because he was unable to use magic outside of Hogwarts without detection by The Trace, which seriously undermined everything he wanted to do with his time.

He noticed that whenever people talked, they would often be discussing Germany and a man named Hitler. It was said that he was a great leader who had started out much like Mussolini; an Italian man with fascist beliefs. Supposedly, both of these leaders were trying to create a better world, a perfect world, where there was no hunger or impurities. Hitler, especially, had been seen as a figure of great advances, what with his iconic creation of Europe's best railway system. But in the more recent light, he had begun to declare war on many countries in order to expand his empire, and using his brown coat soldiers, known as the Nazis. In England, he was now hugely feared and utterly hated and the Nazis were attempting to invade England.

War aside, Tom was awed by the power of this one man, who could bring nations down with an order, who was feared and known worldwide in the muggle community and who had the absolute loyalty of his followers. The creature in Tom's head found the power to be an attractive prospect. If he could have that sort of following, he could do whatever he liked, with the added power of magic at his side. Of course, this meant, the first thing he needed to do was _have_ some followers, but to some degree, he didn't think getting them would be hard. He would then give them a name that would one day be as well-known and powerful as the Nazis', but only in the wizarding world. Maybe then, he would be able to seize control of the muggle world too and then prove himself as the greatest sorcerer in the world.

Towards the east end of London, Catherine was in the back garden of the Switch family home, playing catch with Lommy. They were firing a large Quaffle at one another and Lommy kept up a continuous commentary. He had very good aim and Catherine enjoyed playing these Quidditch training games, as he called them, with him, as you could ever have a boring moment.

"Lommy, are you going to try out for the Gryffindor team?" she asked, as she tossed the ball towards him.

"I want to," he replied sheepishly. "You?"

"No, I prefer to watch," laughed Catherine. "But you should, you'd be brilliant at it. You were great at flying!"

"Not as good as your friend," muttered Lommy, as though this had dented his confidence.

"Tom won't be interested in Quidditch, he's not really a team player," frowned Catherine. "You'd be a much better Quidditch player than he would. Don't try to compare yourself to him; you're both too different for there to be any point."

"I'll try," smiled Lommy, looking a little more confident.

"And also," she added. "You _will _try out for the team even if I have to drag you there myself."

"What about Kate?" asked Lommy, sadly. "It might upset her if I play. I don't want to do that."

Catherine paused, as this was a serious consideration.

"She'll come round," decided Catherine. "Maybe it will have the opposite effect. It might stop her from being so afraid of the dangers of the game, if you can prove you will be fine."

"I guess," he replied thoughtfully.

They decided to go into the house for a drink and a snack, only to find both sets of parents sitting down and having what looked like a very serious conversation. When the pair of them entered, all four adults immediately turned to look at them gravely.

"What's wrong?" asked Catherine at once. This was the sort of expression that meant something terrible had happened.

"It's the war, honey," replied her mum in a strained voice. "Children are being evacuated from major cities to the country, for fear of bomb attacks.

"Is it getting that bad?" asked Catherine in horror. "You all need to leave here and live somewhere safer."

"We can't," sighed Lommy's dad. "That's what we've just been discussing and it's not practical. I really wish the Ministry would get involved. I _hate_ this."

"But they can't interfere too much with muggle affairs," sighed Lommy's mum in frustration. "So we all have to stay put."

"What does it mean for us?" Lommy asked her.

"Well you're going back to Hogwarts in just over a week," she told him. "So we are keeping you here until then, which seems sensible, aren't we Clyde?" she added the last bit to her husband.

"Yes," he answered.

"You know mum's a muggle, don't you?" asked Lommy, as they sat out in the garden.

"I assumed she was a witch too," said Catherine shocked. "She seems to know everything, as though she's been to Hogwarts herself."

"Dad just filled her in," he laughed. "Dad's a blood traitor, because he married a muggle… what is it?"

Catherine was frowning in complete concentration.

"On Christmas, when your parents put on that display, your mum did some magic," frowned Catherine.

"Not properly," grinned Lommy. "She's taken a quick spell course to learn more about magic, so she can make a few sparks come out of mine or dad's wand. Didn't you realise she had borrowed my wand for it?" Catherine shook her head. "Also, because she, you know, _had_ me, she still has a bit of leftover magic in her blood from carrying a magical child."

"Wow," breathed Catherine, astonished. "I can't believe I've never actually known before now."

"It's a family game," laughed Lommy. "We like to see who we can convince for the fun of it."

"So between us, we have four parents and only one who is magical?" asked Catherine amused.

"Sounds about right," grinned Lommy. "And don't forget that pure blood wizards consider him to be a traitor and he is actually a half blood, too."

"You're three quarters muggle born," she chuckled.

"And proud of it!" he announced. His face became more serious. "This war thing is scaring me, though. Our parents are in danger and the Ministry won't do anything about it."

"I know," sighed Catherine. "I'm worried, too." Catherine looked at her feet, wanting to move away from this subject. "On a lighter note, though, Llew sent a letter telling me he would go to Diagon Alley on Friday like us. He said Kate could too, because he's spoken to her recently. They met up by the sounds of it, a couple of weeks ago."

"That's good," he replied enthusiastically. "I don't like them being on their own."

"Neither do I. It will be good to see them."

On Friday, Catherine awoke and quickly got ready, feeling excited for the trip into Diagon Alley, mainly because she would be reunited with her two other best friends. Her parents were a bit slower at rousing themselves than she was, but she persuaded them, with the aid of opening the curtains and allowing daylight to come flooding into the bedroom, to arise.

The Switchs turned up at the front door at about ten o'clock and the two families travelled to the Leaky Cauldron.

This was highly amusing, because everyone could see the pub, except for Catherine's dad. It took a while to convince him the place was there and moreover to persuade him to walk through what appeared, to him, to be an invisible door. Catherine pondered this, wondering if their muggle mothers were able to see it, because they had _leftover magic_, as Lommy had put it, in their blood, but her father had no magic there, leftover or otherwise. Once inside the pub, her dad could see everything and seemed a little dazed. The previous year, her dad had been working when she was buying her Hogwarts things and again when she had been about to board the Hogwarts Express, so he had never experienced this sort of thing before. Sure, he had seen sparks fly out of wands and Catherine hover three feet off the ground at eight years old, but had never had a building materialise around him.

The group laughed at his expression and proceeded to the yard, which hid the entrance to Diagon Alley. As Clyde Switch tapped the bricks with his wand, he exchanged a smile with his wife, Mae – Lommy's mother – and then looked at Catherine's dad's face. Everyone did. His expression of awe and wonder was somehow humbling, as though he was accepting that this world held far more amazing secrets that he would ever have guessed.

"Right," called Mae. "You need to get your new books, so we can go to Flourish and Blotts, first. Then, we can have some new robes fitted and we'll stock up on ink and the likes."

"Yes," agreed Clyde. "Except I think we should go to _Gringotts _first, then Patrick and I will go our own way and gather pet supplies and…" he looked at his wife meaningfully "…other things."

"Yes, yes, of course," agreed Mae, laughing. "Come on then, off we go."

They first went to Gringotts and felt slightly uneasy under the sharp eyes of the pointy-featured goblins. They worked expertly at examining precious stones and Catherine watched them handle the rubies, emeralds, sapphires and diamonds with extreme care, but they also took the chance to peer at the people entering the building with a mild suspicion. They approached the desk of one of the goblins and asked if they could exchange some muggle money and open a bank account for Catherine, which Clyde had strongly advised them to do. The goblin did just this and told Lommy, Catherine and Clyde to follow him. Patrick (Catherine's dad), Eva (Catherine's mum) and Mae (Lommy's mum), were unable to go further into Gringotts due to their lack of magical blood. Naturally, neither of the fretting mums wanted their children to go unaccompanied by an adult, so Clyde had assured them he would look after Lommy and Catherine.

"This way please," squeaked a rather old looking goblin, impatiently. He hobbled through a door and they proceeded after him. The change of scenery was a huge surprise to Catherine, as they had walked out of a room covered in marble and into a long stone… tunnel? There was a small cart on a track that stretched far in opposite directions and further than the darkness would permit them to see. "Step in here, please."

The three of them clambered into the cart and the goblin stepped in after them.

WHOOSH! The cart, which had been motionless, felt as though a giant foot had kicked it into action and in a split second they went from perfect stillness to hurtling along the track with extreme speed. There were dips and uphill climbs and the three humans begun to really enjoy the ride. As the cart came to a particularly steep drop, Catherine let out a small squeal, which was lost in the sound of air rushing past their ears. Suddenly, the cart came to a stop and Catherine took in a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"That was brilliant!" exclaimed Catherine. "I _loved_ it!"

"They're good fun," agreed Clyde, laughing at the delighted look on Catherine's face, which was far more pronounced than Lommy's because it was her first ride.

"This will be your vault," the goblin told Catherine, taking a key from his pocket. "Vault three-hundred and sixty two." He put the key into the lock and turned. The door opened and revealed a room that was almost completely empty, except for some gold coins. "Complimentary ten galleons for young Hogwarts wizards who are first time vault users. Our way of thanking you for saving with Gringotts," the goblin told her proudly.

"Thank you," said Catherine, in surprise. The goblin simply nodded and indicated that Catherine should go in. She entered the vault and pulled out a pouch, which was heavy with wizard currency and removed the money she wouldn't need. Her parents were exchanging more money for Hogwarts things as they spoke, so this was all hers. She decided to keep a galleon and a few sickles back as spending money and then retreated from the vault.

"Here is your key," the goblin said, handing it to her after the vault door had shut. It was as long as her little finger, with an innate _G _wrought into the handle. She carefully placed it in her little pouch, which she slung around her neck.

They then proceeded to the Switchs' vault, in another thrilling journey and thereafter returned to the main entrance of Gringotts.

"Sorted," Clyde told the mums as they walked back into the marble world.

"Into Gryffindor, I hope," joked Mae, her eyes crinkling.

"Does it matter what house you're in, _really_?" asked Eva, exchanging an understanding-Tom-related look with Catherine.

"It does if you want these guys as your housemates," said a Welsh voice from behind Eva.

"Llew!" cried Catherine and Lommy in unison. Then a second later, Kate appeared and the four friends suddenly found themselves tangled in a group hug similar to the one they had had after they had got off the train, just before the summer holidays.

"Your voice is deeper," commented Catherine, looking at Llew. "And you're _taller_."

"Yes," he agreed sheepishly. "I need new robes."

"We're going to get some soon, anyway," Catherine informed him.

Being reunited with her other two friends had been even better than she had imagined. They had the most incredible day and stocked up on all the things they needed for their return to Hogwarts.

"We're both stopping in the Leaky Cauldron," grinned Kate. "So we're all going to be able to see each other for the rest of the summer holidays."

"Yep," nodded Llew. "All four days of it."

They all laughed and headed to an ice cream parlour for chocolate sundaes. Half way through the delicious ice creams, Patrick and Clyde, who had both gone their own way, returned looking extremely pleased with themselves. Catherine, who was sat facing them as they approached, could see why. Lommy, being the one with his back to the dads didn't look around until he saw the stunned expressions of his three friends. Lommy turned his head and his jaw dropped.

Clyde was holding a broomstick. A truly stunning _silver arrow _model. He approached the table with a huge smile and handed it to his son.

"It's an early birthday present," he grinned, watching his son's gleeful expression. "Now you can try out for the Gyiffindor team. I know you want to."

"Dad…" he was in shock, struggling to express himself. Then, suddenly, all his thoughts came spilling out. "Dad it's brilliant. Thank you so much. It's perfect, it's amazing and a _silver arrow_!"

"You're welcome, son."

They all admired the broomstick from every angle. The only person who looked a little uncomfortable was Kate, but she tried her best to cover her emotions, so as not to spoil Lommy's moment. Catherine noticed, however and gave her a small smile of understanding and Kate returned it sadly.

The rest of the day, Lommy talked about flying and Quidditch constantly and they agreed to go to a deserted field when they got back, so Lommy could test out his new gift. The mood of the group was a joyous one.

The last part of the holidays passed with much the same level of euphoria and on the day they returned to Hogwarts, they walked through the ticket barrier together; ready to start a new year.

On the Hogwarts express, Tom sat in a compartment with a group of second year Slytherins; some of who, incidentally, he had made a point of avoiding on his first journey to Hogwarts, due to their immature dungbomb dropping. Mulciber, who was fair haired, sat beside Rosier talking about Quidditch, whereas Nott and Avery stared aimlessly in different directions, with sprawled and relaxed postures. Lestrange and Hornby, however, were watching Tom with a shadow of expectation and an air of devotion. Tom had noticed, feeling incredibly elated by this fact.

"So," Tom said clearly. Mulciber and Rosier stopped talking immediately and everyone in the compartment gave Tom their fullest attention. He would play with them first, see who was worth the conversation. "Did you have a good holiday?" They all clambered into immediate answers, which made Tom laugh. "One at a time, maybe? Mulciber?"

"It was okay, not a lot happened, though," Mulciber answered.

"Maybe we can have a more interesting year at Hogwarts, to make up for it," suggested Tom, with a voice of authority, as though promising a young child a treat. Mulciber's eyes lit up eagerly.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Mulciber.

"All in good time," smiled Tom, with a devious edge. Mulciber sniggered in delight. "Rosier?"

"Much the same as Mulciber," shrugged the dark haired boy. "I want a bit more action this year, some more adventure."

"We'll see what can be done," nodded Tom ambiguously. "What about you two?"

"Mine was actually good," replied Nott. "Went travelling to Albania! Definitely worth the visit."

"I just spent all summer getting letters from this show off," muttered Avery, inclining his head towards Nott. "About how amazing Albania is."

"You're just jealous," smirked Nott. Avery scowled at him.

"I had a quiet summer," Olive Hornby told Tom. "Me and my brother spent the whole time flying on broomsticks. I think I might try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"I don't care for Quidditch myself," frowned Lestrange. "I have better things to do with my time."

"As have I," murmured Tom, nodding to himself. "Who else is interested in trying for the squad?"

"I was thinking about it," grinned Nott, with an arrogant expression.

"Perhaps, then, you will be too preoccupied with the Quidditch team to be interested in what we'll be doing," suggested Tom, watching the boy pale slightly. Tom congratulated himself on the control that he had. He could immediately tell Nott wouldn't be trying out after all. Olive, however, was a different matter.

"I don't see why we can't do both," disagreed Olive in a low voice, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Unless you really don't want us to."

Tom paused. He was sure that by ordering Olive not to try out, she wouldn't, but it may cause her to feel resentment. He needed his followers to respect him or he would lose their loyalty.

"Of course you must try out if that is your target," Tom replied thoughtfully. "One of my one beliefs is to reach every personal goal. Perhaps Quidditch is one of yours." Olive nodded and looked somewhat relieved. "I think we should all remember that this year. We need to set targets and prove ourselves by achieving them. Ambition is a quality we all possess, because we are Slytherins and we need to concentrate on this to complete our goals."

"Even if we have to play dirty?" asked Mulciber, curious.

"If that is the route to success, it is one worth taking," nodded Tom and the others exchanged gleeful looks.

"Excuse me?" asked a small girl with pigtails and glasses, who had just opened the compartment door. She was clearly a first year and spoke very timidly. "Is there any room, here?"

"Who are you?" demanded Olive rudely.

"I…I'm," she quavered under the fierce look of Hornby. "Myrtle."

"Now, now Olive, we must remember our manners. Hello Myrtle," greeted Tom politely. She looked at Tom, unsure as whether or not to trust him. "Sit here." His words were an order and she sat down immediately.

"Tell me about yourself Myrtle," invited Tom, watching her slight frame quiver with discomfort. She didn't say a word. The creature in Tom's mind enjoyed the power he had and he noticed the other Slytherins were beginning to enjoy themselves.

"Come on then," pressed Olive. "If you're going to ruin our conversation, at least provide some of your own."

"Are your parents magical?" demanded Rosier bluntly, eyeing the girl with a knowing distaste. He expected the answer, it seemed.

"No," she answered quietly. There were a few noises of disgust around the compartment. However, Tom's mind flitted to Catherine; also a muggleborn.

"So you're a dirty, magic-stealing mudblood," said Olive matter-of-factly. "And you had the nerve to interrupt our conversation with your filth?"

"Stealing magic isn't very nice, you know," Tom told the girl solemnly, the creature giving him a sudden burst of inspiration. "There is a punishment for such an offence." Everyone in the room waited with baited breath as Tom pulled out his wand. He flicked it and muttered something, causing three chocolate frog boxes on a seat to transfigure into three small birds. They fluttered above Tom's head and circled there. "See these?" Myrtle nodded fearfully. "They can detect magical thieves and when I tell them to, they will peck the magic out of them. Are you sure you didn't steal the magic? When I release them, there's no stopping them." His voice held a note of warning. Myrtle wasn't sure what was going on but was very frightened. She leapt up and made her way towards the compartment door when Tom said, "They're coming!" At once, the birds shot in the direction of Myrtle and she squealed and ducked, covering her face with her hands. She didn't remove them until she heard the laughter and then she had to look. The birds had vanished and instead three chocolate frog boxes lay on the floor. Everyone in the compartment was falling about laughing except for Tom, who was surveying Myrtle with a conflicted expression.

"Just a joke," Tom muttered so only she could hear. Then he increased his volume. "Perhaps you might prefer to use a different compartment."

The others redoubled their laughter as Myrtle scrambled to leave through the sliding door as fast as she could and tripped on her way out, causing her glasses to break. A strange instinct had gripped Tom, which was to go and apologise and repair her glasses. Before he could act on this impulse, however, Olive had leapt up and slammed the door shut behind the girl.

"That's just ended my summer in higher spirits," chuckled Avery appreciatively. "There really should be a punishment for magic thieves, though."

"I agree," nodded Lestrange. "You were brilliant. That will teach her!"

The Slytherin's took their chance to praise Tom for his performance and the negative feelings he had experienced dissolved at the knowledge that he was successful in gaining their loyalty. He had already told them that they would fight dirty, if it was the way that would work and he'd done just that. Anyway, he hadn't actually harmed the girl, he had simply gained more respect from his peers and judging by the expression on Nott's face, he had created a little fear in them too. He was heading down his desired path.

A few compartments down, Myrtle stumbled across another group of second years, although while holding her broken glasses in her shaking hands and unable to see anything other than fuzzy, blurred shapes.

"Are you okay?" asked a kind voice. "Here let me help." Myrtle's glasses were removed from her hand. "Reparo," the voice said and the glasses were replaced in her palm, fully mended. Myrtle put them on and surveyed the girl with fair ringlets who had just repaired her glasses.

"Thank you," sniffed Myrtle.

"What happened?" asked the girl in concern.

"Sit down," offered another voice who was perched on a seat in the compartment and who was pointing at an unoccupied spot. Myrtle felt the déjà vu as she looked at the girl who spoke to her. "If you want to," added the girl hastily.

"I'm Kate," said the one who had repaired her glasses. "This is Catherine," she pointed at the other girl, "and this is Llew and Lommy."

"I'm Myrtle," mumbled the girl, deciding to take the offer of a seat. She perched next to the boy called Llew and soon felt more relaxed.

"What happened to you?" asked Lommy. "You look really shaken up. Was it them stupid Slytherins?"

"Slytherins?" she repeated in confusion. "I don't know, but there was a girl called Olive and they were mean to me." Her voice was very whiny.

"Ugh, Olive Hornby?" demanded Lommy with distaste. "She's horrid to everyone."

"That's true," agreed Catherine "She's not a very nice person. But you're okay with us."

"Thanks," mumbled Myrtle in that same miserable voice. Catherine found her moping somewhat annoying, but ensured that she kept these feelings to herself.

Later that day, when The Sorting was taking place, the young girl named Myrtle was placed in Ravenclaw and Catherine felt a slight relief that she wouldn't be sharing a common room with her. For the remainder of the journey, Myrtle had whined about everything possible, up to the point where Catherine wanted to jump off the train.

Catherine watched the girl trudge over to the Ravenclaw table, with her slumped posture and saw that she barely acknowledged the applause her new housemates were giving her. Catherine's eyes darted to the Slytherin table, where they met Tom's and she was aware that he looked older and a little thinner. She also noticed how the other Slytherins kept looking at him as though he was royalty and that his expression was a little darker. Catherine looked back around to the front and watched the rest of the sorting.

"Long time no see," Catherine grinned, when she saw Tom in the library the next morning.

"Indeed," he nodded, appraising her with his darkened eyes. He returned her smile and Catherine noted that it brightened up his face a little.

"I think you need to have a word with Hornby," Catherine told him seriously. "She was picking on a first year on the train. She's called Myrtle and she just got sorted into Ravenclaw. We found her with broken glasses and looking really upset."

Tom struggled for a reply.

"She wouldn't take any notice of what I said," he lied, hoping that Catherine didn't know the _real_ reason for Myrtle being upset. There was a part of him that wanted to hide that darker section of his personality from Catherine.

"That's not true," scoffed Catherine. "She _loves_ you… she'd lick your shoes if you asked her to. If you ever do ask her to, let me watch," she added in amusement.

"You don't like her very much, do you?" he asked knowingly.

"She's a stuck up bully," replied Catherine distastefully. "I mean, sure, Myrtle can get under your skin a bit, but there was no need for Olive to break her glasses."

"Myrtle told you Olive broke her glasses?" asked Tom, wondering if he wanted to know what Myrtle had said.

"No, she was a bit too freaked out to actually talk about what happened," Catherine told him darkly. "She just mentioned Olive's name, which she'd apparently heard and turned up with broken glasses. Just putting two and two together."

_And getting five_, thought Tom darkly. He was relieved that the girl hadn't revealed any more. Satisfied, Tom decided it was time for a subject change and asked Catherine about her holidays, trying not to display his dislike whenever Lommy's name was mentioned.

The rest of the year passed by in much the same way. Tom continued to earn loyalty from his housemates, with an occasional event such as the one that had occurred with Myrtle, which he carefully concealed from Catherine, who he remained friends with.

The only exciting addition to the year was Lommy's success in securing a place as Gryffindor chaser and scoring four goals in his first match. Sadly, Kate had still been unable to face watching the games but had looked upon Lommy with relief every time he returned from a match in one piece and congratulated him and the rest of the team on their performances. Gryffindor, of course, secured the Quidditch cup that year and Lommy became a bit of a celebrity in that he scored sixteen goals in the final match. What was more, his sixteenth shot soared through the left hoop a second before the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch, resulting in a win for Gryffindor by ten points. The team spirit in Gryffindor was raised to new heights. But over in Slytherin, a different team spirit was brewing, under a pale, good-looking thirteen-year-old leader and this team, or rather, gang were beginning to increase in number. Although no trace was left behind, strange things began to happen, whereby the finger of blame always seemed to miss them.

Tom Riddle led his gang and they called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I increased the length of this chapter due to the delay in posting but please review and tell me your thoughts up to now!<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 10**

"Hagrid, Rubeus". The tall, shaggy-haired boy, who towered noticeably above the miniature first years, stumbled forward to have the sorting hat placed upon his head. If truth be told it wasn't an ideal fit and he sat nervously, hunched in on himself in a sort of way that suggested he wanted to sink into the ground. From the moment the boy had entered the Great Hall, whispers had begun hissing around the room, because this boy was, without a doubt, very different.

"Poor thing," muttered Catherine sympathetically, a newly instated third-year. "As if it's not nerve-racking enough without this sort of reception."

"Gryffindor!" boomed the hat forcefully and Catherine made a special effort to cheer and clap enthusiastically. As soon at the tall boy had arrived at the table, she shook his hand warmly and introduced herself.

"Hello… Rubeus?" she greeted him, hoping she had his name right. He smiled, which she took as confirmation. "I'm Catherine."

She noticed dimly that her head only reached his chest and his large hand completely covered her own and a little of her wrist. It was only in this close proximity did she realise how big he actually was.

"Yer can call me Hagrid," he told her, his boyish face splitting into a friendly smile and his black eyes glittering. There was something pure and warm about his expression and she found herself comparing his sweet, innocent eyes to the dark, knowing eyes of Tom.

On returning to Hogwarts, Tom had yet again become a shade darker in expression and manner. She suspected it was related to the amount of time he was spending with his Slytherin friends, who followed him around like pets. Catherine glanced at Tom across the Hall and saw the slightly unkind amusement in his expression as he surveyed Hagrid, who was now talking to Kate, Llew, Lommy and a couple of first years, who were laughing heartily at tales of "me li'l ol' dad". He moved his eyes to Catherine, who looked at him reproachfully and he dropped his gaze after betraying a flicker of emotion. He didn't look around at Hagrid again for the remainder of the feast and Catherine continued to enjoy herself with her housemates.

"Tom, there was no need for it," said Catherine sternly, talking to him as though he was a naughty child. This tone made him square his shoulders with indignation and he drew himself up to his fullest height. Catherine suddenly became aware of how much he had grown over the holidays and furthermore, his voice was a little deeper.

"Don't talk to me like that," he snapped. "What I find funny is none of your concern."

"It is if it's one of my friends," replied Catherine evenly. "Hagrid can't help what he looks like and he is a lovely boy."

"He's huge," sneered Tom. "He's like a troll trying to pass for a wizard."

"Stop it," glared Catherine, although still keeping her voice calm. "Let's say no more about it and just leave him alone."

Tom looked livid. In truth, it was the first time someone had stood their ground against him in weeks. He had grown so used to people doing his bidding without question that he had quite forgotten how stubborn Catherine could be. He decided, on balance to let this one pass. After all, she didn't need to _see_ him taunting the blundering oaf. He nodded and Catherine beamed. She was so innocent and the contrast of her felt incredibly strange to him. After a pause, Catherine's face fell and she looked troubled.

"What is it?" asked Tom, feeling something that hinted at concern.

"It's just… my parents," mumbled Catherine, not looking at him and therefore missing his look of distaste.

"What about them?" he asked in a dead voice.

"They haven't written to me in over a week," she told him, with a slight frown.

"It's only the second week back," laughed Tom, feeling an odd sense of relief that he didn't quite understand. "Give them chance, they might be really busy."

"But it's not like them all," sighed Catherine anxiously. "It never takes them this long to write to me."

"Maybe you were such a pain in the holidays, they're enjoying the break," suggested Tom jokingly and was a little disappointed when Catherine didn't even crack a smile or playfully rebuke him. In fact, her worry begun to seep into him, as though it was contagious. "Stop fretting, Catherine. You parents actually like you; they'll be in touch soon."

However, he was wrong and it was not until Transfiguration later that week that Catherine found out why.

Whilst waving her wand over a mouse and attempting to transform it into a goblet, Armando Dippet knocked on the door, then opened it with a wizened and sorrowful expression.

"Professor, may I speak to you," he asked gravely. Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes looked deeply into Dippet's for a moment, then his expression turned to that of matching sorrow and his eyes moved briefly to Catherine and back again.

"Of course, Headmaster," replied the Professor, his tone equally melancholy. The two men left the room and as the door swung shut, the class erupted into immediate conversation.

"What's happening?" asked Kate worriedly, looking concerned. "Professor Dippet has never interrupted any of our classes before."

"I'm not sure," answered Catherine, feeling a sinking feeling that she couldn't quite explain. In fact, when the two teachers re-entered the classroom, which was greeted by instantaneous silence, it didn't come as a huge shock when they both looked at her steadily. Something was wrong.

"Catherine," said Dumbledore gently. "Would you please come with me?"

Feeling the most awful sense of dread, she exchanged a look with Kate, Lommy, Llew, then finally Tom, before arising from her chair and following the teacher back outside the classroom.

"Would you like to come to my office?" asked Dippet kindly.

"What's happened?" Catherine asked urgently, the question rushing from her before she could stop it. The two men exchanged a glance.

"I'm truly sorry Catherine," murmured Dippet sadly. "But in the muggle world, as I'm sure you know, there is a war raging. However the, opposing side, as it were, launched a catastrophic attack on London and your parents were… caught in the… firing line."

"Are they okay?" demanded Catherine in a whisper, feeling sick.

"I'm sorry," he replied, shaking his head. "They were killed in the attack. It was an attack from the air, bombs, I believe." But Catherine had gone numb, feeling total disbelief. They were lying, they had to be; there was no way this could have happened.

"Lombard Switch's father sent us a letter to tell us of the events that occurred," Dippet told her gravely. "He managed to escape with his wife in time, but it was too late to save your parents. I believe he feels deeply guilty that he didn't get there in time.

"No," mumbled Catherine. "He shouldn't… not his fault… I…"

She didn't know what to say or do and the teachers could see this. Without warning, she spun on her heel and walked back into the classroom, in what could only be described as, as denial. She wouldn't accept it. It couldn't be true.

"Catherine," exclaimed Kate. "What's happened?"

She didn't answer. Saying it aloud made it real. Dumbledore approached her with a gentle expression.

"You don't need to remain here for the rest of the lesson," he said quietly. "You need time to come to terms with-"

"No," she muttered. "I don't want to go… and…" What? Grieve? But she couldn't feel anything at all, how would she grieve if she was numb? How could she come to terms with something she didn't believe? He tried to persuade her to go, but she refused, stirring everyone's curiosity and he continued with the lesson, watching her often. Once the lesson was over, Catherine told her friends to go ahead. Until that point, she hadn't moved and her numb thoughts had moved sluggishly around her head.

"No," said Tom firmly. "I am going nowhere. What happened to you?"

"Tom," murmured Dumbledore. "Leave her be, she's had a shock."

"What have you done to her?" he almost growled. "She was perfectly fine before you two dripped poison in her ear. Now look at her!"

"I…" Catherine struggled to speak and Tom looked around immediately to listen to whatever she had to say. "They're gone."

"Who?" he asked desperately. She threw a pleading look at Dumbledore.

"Catherine's parents have been killed in an attack on the country, led by Hitler," he explained quietly. Tom gaped. Catherine shuddered at how real and cutting the words were, as though it was it was a knife that was sinking in to her chest. She cringed away from this reality, but there was no stopping it. She realised it was true. They were gone, gone. Never coming back.

"Oh," was all he could manage, then he looked around at Catherine feeling lost and for the first time in his life completely powerless. Her pain was evident across her face, yet he could not relate to it, as he had never formed a bond with either of his parents.

So Catherine was orphaned, just as he was. It gave him an oddly conflicting feeling. She had another thing in common with him and she was the first person he liked having similarities to, however, she was shocked, horrified… traumatised even by the event. He had never seen anyone look so vulnerable and wanted to shield her from the two men who had brought her grief.

"Leave us," ordered Tom darkly. "You've done enough damage for the day."

"I think it would be irresponsible of me to…"

"What? Leave her with me?" he challenged furiously.

"She is in a very fragile state…"

"Oh and you think I would take advantage of that?" he growled. He was sure by something in the teacher's expression that this was the case. "You speak of house unity and love, but you never act on it, do you? You hypocrite."

"You're upset," allowed Dumbledore. "I see that. However, that is not an appropriate way to speak to a teacher and your raging is the last thing Miss Mills needs."

"It's Catherine," hissed Tom. "And I can take it from here." His voice became softer. "Let's get you out of here."

She nodded, got up and followed Tom from the room, Dumbledore looking on helplessly. Just before the door swung shut, Tom shot him a half triumphant half detesting expression and swiftly followed Catherine.

She was stood a few metres away from the door, with her back to him and her breathing seemed a little irregular.

"Catherine?" he said softly, unsure of what to do. Very slowly and cautiously, he approached Catherine and moved a pale hand towards her. A strange mixture of emotions jumbled within him as his hand became closer to her and after a seconds hesitation, he placed it on her shoulder and a tingling sensation began in his fingertips. This contact, for Tom, was new and very strange.

Catherine had completely frozen in something she assumed was a second wave of shock. Even through her numb disbelief and pain, she had been surprised by Tom's touch, being as physical contact wasn't his style and whenever it had occurred between them, he had always seemed a little uncomfortable and never administered it himself. The shock soon died, however and Catherine suddenly wanted to be alone, in case she broke down, something which she was sure was due any time now. She moved slowly from under Tom's hand.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she whispered. "I need... some time to..." Then she hurried away in the direction of Gryffindor tower, not looking around once, in case she gave away her despair.

Tom looked on after her, his hand still outstretched and feeling rather dejected. Had he done something wrong? He remembered Catherine's original concerns about no contact from her parents and wondered bitterly if she might have remembered his comments and be angry with him.

He had never been able to understand affection and at a time when he believed someone may actually need it, they weren't interested. How was he to ever comprehend the workings of people's minds when even they couldn't decide what they wanted for themselves? He sighed heavily and after adjusting his school bag on his shoulder, began to walk towards his next class.

Catherine just managed to hold it together until she reached the portrait hall and as she opened her mouth to say the password, a sob broke free and the painted lady watched helplessly as she struggled to regain control.

"I know I shouldn't," cried the Fat Lady. "But I heard about what happened and I know you're a Gryffindor, so…" and she swung open to allow Catherine's entry. She was incredibly grateful, as she had been unable to form any words through her shaky sobs let alone a tongue-twisting password and hurried through the hole, to be greeted by many concerned faces.

"Catherine!" called Llew. "What happened?"

She tried to get past him, because she wanted to be alone, but he didn't realise this and nor did the bustling group of people who all wanted to know what was wrong.

"Give her some space," called a clear voice and everyone looked at him. It was Lommy and his expression was one of deep sadness. He pushed through the now silent crowd, reached Catherine and pulled her into a hug, but while also moving her away from the gathering. He guided her towards the stairs to the girl's dormitory and she valiantly tried to control the tears with everyone watching. He pulled her round to face him and looked at her tenderly. "Do you want me to tell them what's happened, while you get a little peace?" he whispered sadly. Of course he knew, she realised; his dad had been there when it happened, when her parents... She nodded, deciding they would find out anyway and that she didn't want to have to be the one to tell them. Then, she turned quickly, rushed up the staircase and collapsed onto her bed, allowing any emotion she had held back to flow freely. It was the worst she had ever felt in her whole life.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 11**

Emotions are a funny thing. They dip in and out of swirling numbness and blazing reality, weaving themselves into dreams and leaving a dark imprint beneath the eyes. For Catherine, the heaviness had settled deeply into dark shadows that highlighted her pink-rimmed eyes and gave a sense of continual tiredness. If she was not waking up in a morning, sweating and crying from a hideous nightmare, she was suffering from a temporary amnesia, which gave her a few precious seconds of consciousness, when she had forgotten her deepest sadness. Then, the tumbling, yet also hollow feeling would return and her heart would ache for the loss of her parents.

They would never write to her again. They would never speak to her again. They would never be able to comfort her and tell her everything was alright, again.

She missed them dearly and every morning felt a glimmer of hope that everything had been a huge mistake and Morosaether would soar before her with a letter, in which her parents would explain that they were actually perfectly safe. Of course, no such letter arrived and a little more of her broken heart seemed to die with every fresh wave of hopelessness. She couldn't find it in herself to let them go, believing that it would somehow betray their memory if she gave up; but always wishing that wishing was enough to bring them back.

"Catherine," murmured Tom from behind her. Catherine was stood in a corridor, although she wasn't entirely sure which one, or how she had come to be there and she turned her head halfway in the direction of Tom's voice. "What are you doing up here?"

"I don't know," she said vaguely, staring with disinterest at a small tear in one of the finely woven tapestries.

"I know how it feels," he told her, his voice particularly soft.

"People don't know how to act around me," she mused quietly, not responding to his comment. "They're worried about saying the wrong thing, making it worse. As if it could be any worse." She let out a derisive and more to the point, uncharacteristic laugh. Tom shuddered. He didn't like it. "No one can ever know, ever really understand, how lonely it feels."

"You're not alone," muttered Tom, his voice sounding hurt, although Catherine didn't pick up on this.

"The Switch's have offered to let me stay with them in the holidays, I think, they feel that they owe me or something. I just don't see the point anymore," she said dryly. "I wonder if there ever _was_ a point."

Tom had endured enough. She had been like this for the past four weeks now, ever since that horrible Transfiguration lesson, when Dippet told her about the death of her parents. She was always speaking in a cool, semi-present way and never paid any attention to any help he tried to give. He was not feeling very patient at the moment, so with a little more force than necessary, he seized her shoulder and pulled her round to face him.

"Ow," she complained, showing the first sign of genuine life in four weeks.

"Oh so you are still in there, then," glared Tom. "I got the impression you were the living dead."

"My parents have just died!" she shrieked. However, her voice broke on the last word and she remained silent. There were no tears glistening in her eyes, but the heavy shadows beneath her them seemed to have increased their load. Tom's hands moved to her shoulders and he sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Catherine," he whispered. "But you have got to listen to me. They've gone, you can't bring them back." She struggled against his grip, but he secured his hold, swung around and had he backed up against a wall. She looked furious. "Just listen!" he demanded. She stopped struggling, although she didn't make eye contact. "I know it's hard, I know you feel alone but they… cared about you a lot. Don't you see what a gift that was? I never had that. I'm sure and I know you will agree, they wouldn't want you to be like this. They would want you to smile and to move on."

"It's not that simple," she replied in a strained voice. "They're not here anymore, how can I know what they would want."

"Of course you know," insisted Tom. "I am right, we both know it. They would not want you to dwell in this dark place. I'm not saying it will be easy or that it won't take time for the wounds to mend or at least heal over, but you can't carry on like this. It's time to step back and to find a way to get through it. I understand what it is to be parentless and I'm okay. You can be too. You at least got the chance to know yours." Tom stepped away from Catherine, although she remained where she was.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she groaned sadly. "It's just so hard; it's all I can think about."

"You need distracting and you need someone unrelated to the situation to talk to," said Tom, in a slightly matter-of-fact voice. "That's where I can help. Now, come on, Slughorn is having a small gathering tonight and you're coming. You've missed the last couple and it's just not the same."

"I don't know if I'm ready Tom," she said, anxiously.

"Not yet, maybe," he replied. "But if you go up to your dormitory and put on a dress then you might be ready."

Catherine gave a very little smile, which Tom returned with great relief. He felt glad to have made some progress with her and after then, Catherine was a little more like her normal self. As she ascended the stairs towards Gryffindor tower, Tom took a detour to the library, feeling that it was about time he started putting some research into his mother's side of the family.

On arriving at the library, he began digging through old newspapers, looking around for the only name that gave him possible access to the past: Marvolo. His middle-name had been given to him after his grandfather, so it made sense to start with that. He realised rather quickly, that he may have to check every newspaper cover to cover, which would take far too long. About twenty newspapers later, he felt disheartened and abandoned this method, accepting the fact that he needed a different system. He left the library and made his way to the gloomy dungeons with the intention of changing into his dress robes. Unfortunately, he was delayed for a short time by Olive Hornby, who had shortened her hair during the summer and had taken to fluttering her eye lashes a lot.

"Hello Tom," she smiled in an irritating babyish voice.

"Hello Olive," he answered smoothly, trying to slide past the girl. She mirrored his movement to prevent his escape and he sighed. "Did you want something?"

"It's just, I never get to see you," she pouted, tilting her head to the side, batting her eyelashes continually. She got closer to him, uncomfortably so and her face was inches away from him. "And I realised recently, how much I want to see you."

Tom smiled slightly, although a slightly cruel glint shone from his eye. "Thank you Olive, but if you would excuse me, I am attending Slughorn's party tonight and I am meeting a friend who I will not keep waiting."

"It's that mudblood, isn't it?" she demanded, snapping out of her flirtatious façade. Tom's eyes darkened dangerously and he moved closer still to the girl.

"Do not call her that," he said in quiet voice that was dripping with menace. She stepped back quickly, a look of fear in her eyes and he smiled. "Anyway, I must go and get ready. Good evening Olive."

He strode past and ventured to the boy's dormitory, where he quickly changed into his navy blue dress robes.

"Ah, so good to see you Catherine," beamed Slughorn as she entered his room right behind Tom. "And you are looking fine tonight, isn't she Tom?"

"Of course," answered Tom warmly, appraising her with his eyes. She was wearing a pretty burgundy dress and her hair was pulled away from her pale face. She blushed at the compliments, although Slughorn's comment had reminded her of the reason she had not attended the last few gatherings. Tom, sensing her distress, took her hand in his own for a second, gave it a light squeeze then let go. Catherine felt a little better and experienced an unusual flipping sensation in her stomach.

For the short time that the party lasted, she actually managed to enjoy herself a little and even laughed at one of Slughorns stories. She caught Tom's eye and saw genuine joy reflected back at her. She knew he would support her when she was feeling down and that information alone would help her to get through this, she realised. At least she still had Tom.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 12**

Tom lay awake in bed one Saturday morning, thinking obsessively about his family. After Slughorn's party, Catherine had made a vast improvement, which meant her depression was no longer his primary concern. He had again been wondering how to unveil the mysteries of his past and how to find out exactly who this Marvolo actually was. A sudden burst of inspiration hit him and he sat up quickly. The conversation he'd had with that snake so long ago, it seemed, contained one small fact that would make this task easier. He was descended from Salazar Slytherin, so it seemed. Surely it would be possible to track the line of Slytherin with more ease than to find the owner of a random name, even if it was an uncommon one.

"Tom?" It was Mulciber, who was quietly slipping his shoes on. His voice held concern. "Are you okay?"

"Absolutely," grinned Tom swinging his legs around the side of the bed.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, worried.

"No," smiled Tom. "I've been awake for a while."

"Oh," he replied, leaning forward to tie his shoelaces. Then he straightened up again. "Why isn't Olive following the Knights around any more?" he asked, referring to their gang of which Tom was the ringleader. Tom appraised him closely, realising he was trying to be casual.

"I expect because I had a little run in with her," he answered quietly. "But you already knew this."

"But you were defending that mud…" he quailed under Tom's glare, "I mean muggleborn and threatened Olive. I don't want you to speak to her like that!" There was a silence.

"Well Mulciber," murmured Tom. "I admire your courage and I am sure she will appreciate you playing the _Knight_ in shining armour, however, if she will insist on fluttering her eyelashes at me, I will happily make her feel like she is worth much less to me than Catherine, which she seems to find most disparaging."

"That's no reason to threaten her," he muttered. The comment about Olive's flirtatious behaviour had struck a chord with him. "She's on our side and I thought you said you wanted all the magical support possible."

"This isn't about magical support, is it?" pried Tom delicately. "You have developed, _feelings_ for the girl, haven't you?" Mulciber's deep blush was proof enough, however, he had a retort at the ready.

"What like you and the mudblood?" screamed Mulciber, awakening Lestrange with a start.

"What's happening? What's all the shouting about?" he asked, disorientated, looking between the two boys. Tom had silently slipped out his wand, which was now directed at Mulciber. He flicked his wrist and Mulciber shot across the room and landed in a clumsy heap at the foot of Avery's bed. Tom approached slowly, towering over the now trembling boy.

"Do not ever speak to me like that again," he ordered in a chilling voice, "because there are worse things to come for anyone who does. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," he gulped, massaging his head. "Sorry."

"Then let this be the end of it," he replied, pocketing his wand and lightening his tone. He stretched a hand out to the boy and pulled him to his feet. "There will be rewards for those who are loyal, but for those who are not… well… I admire your courage, Mulciber, bravery is an honourable gift, but do not let it lead you astray."

"I understand," he said, composed. He turned to leave, after exchanging a look with Lestrange, who was sat up in bed, unmoving.

"Do you think I was a little harsh?" Tom asked once Mulciber was out of earshot.

"No," he replied, though hesitant. Tom frowned slightly, he could detect something from the boy, which suggested insincerity, but he wasn't sure what.

"You're lying," Tom said evenly. "I can tell." _Somehow, _he thought in confusion. It was as though traces of guilt were trailing around the curve of his mouth and the uncomfortable twitch of his hand. He felt sure that most people wouldn't detect these giveaways, yet he could, with ease.

"Perhaps a little harsh," he admitted guiltily, looking down. "But I guess he needed telling."

"Correct," answered Tom. "Can I trust you?"

Lestrange looked up immediately, his face full of eagerness. "Of course."

"Good," he answered, seeing that this comment was full of sincerity. "For I am honoured to have you among our ranks and would hate to think that my altercation with Mulciber would destroy your valuable loyalties."

"Of course it won't," he answered in a rush, looking rather pleased with himself. "He's just sour because he's in love with Hornby." Lestrange suddenly stopped talking and gasped and Tom knew this information had been strictly confidential. His slip was a golden opportunity to maintain his loyalty.

"If I can trust you, then you can trust me," Tom murmured pointedly, using a light voice and failing to mention that Mulciber had already given himself away while Lestrange had been asleep. Tom knew that this had become an unspoken promise. If Lestrange turned on him, Tom would tell Mulciber what had been said. Mulciber had become reasonably well known for bullying, revenge and anger, despite the fact that teachers rarely caught him and Lestrange knew that betraying his secrets would be a sure way to set him off. "Well, I believe we have a Quidditch match to dress warmly for. Gryffindor verses Slytherin. I do hope Mulciber's head isn't too sore; he needs to keep his wits about him for beating bludgers at Switch." His fellow let out a slightly strained laugh and the two of them dressed quickly. Tom didn't really want to go to the match, but decided he wanted to keep an eye on his followers, while making sure Mulciber wasn't spreading any poison about him. He would have to proceed with his family research afterwards. Lestrange picked up on this.

"I thought you hated Quidditch," he said confusedly. "Like me."

"I don't think it will kill me to watch a little healthy competition between rival houses," he replied nonchalantly. "Plus, I really would rather enjoy watching Switch take a smack from a badly swung beater's bat."

"I'll get Nott and Mulciber right on it," he answered, amused. "You know, I was surprised when you let them try out this year for the team, last year you were dead set against it."

"It's simple really. They were loyal all year round and never mentioned it. I've always said I will reward loyalty and so this was their gift for being valuable Knights. If I feel they are losing loyalty to us, then I may have to review this, but so far they have managed to prioritise the Knights. They are not as devoted as yourself, I must say, though that is for your ears only." He looked very pleased with himself and Tom congratulated his own careful flattery. "However, I did think Nott had been thrown off the team for _accidentally_ jinxing the Gryffindor seeker last week," said Tom, disliking the idea of being out of the loop. "An amusing bit of handy-work; I believe Griffiths reacted quite badly."

"Yeah," agreed Lestrange. "But Sluggy wants us to win and realised there was no time to replace him, so he's on a kind of probation – one foot out of line and all that – he's doing lines instead. I reckon he got let off because he gave Slughorn some crystallised pineapple, which he said he's 'rather partial to,'" Lestrange mimicked Professor Slughorn's voice with surprising accuracy. Tom laughed, although he stored this knowledge about his teacher at the back of his mind, thinking it may come in useful one day, should he ever need to soften him up.

Catherine had awoken early on the morning of the Quidditch match, much earlier, in fact, than most of the team, except the newly instated captain, of course, a fifth year, who was undecided as to whether he wanted to sit down or pace. He was called Janus McGonagall and kept twisting his hands nervously, glancing towards the dormitories that held his teammates with definite impatience.

He sat down in a squashy armchair, not seeming to realise Catherine was even there, continuing to intertwine his twitching fingers. Suddenly, he shot out of the chair, hurried towards one of the dormitories and disappeared up the stairs. Catherine realised he had chosen the third year's dormitory first and while he was gone, one of the Gryffindor chasers, Minerva, entered the room looking nervous and determined. She was the Captain's younger sister and Lommy always admired her for her speed and agility on the Quidditch pitch. The seeker, Glynnis Griffiths, was a pleasant girl from her own year and indeed slept in Catherine's dormitory. Admittedly, Catherine was not one of her best friends, but they did get on and she was a very good player. At the moment, though, she was still down in the hospital wing, recovering from a particularly nasty stinging curse, courtesy of Nott, a Slytherin beater, and it had been touch and go as to whether she would be playing. This was the reason that Janus was so worked up. It was his first match as Captain and his key player was lying in a hospital bed.

"Morning Minerva," smiled Catherine, as the girl approached. "I think your brother may be a little nervous."

"I thought he might be," chucked Minerva, trying to conceal her own anxiety. "I was going to go to the hospital wing now to see if our seeker is fit enough to join us. If not, you might have to step in," she teased.

"Well in that case, I think I might come with you to make_ sure_ she plays," laughed Catherine, feeling her stomach seize up slightly, as she hadn't laughed in a while.

"It's not even light yet," complained a sleepy voice, which had to be Lommy. He was being chivvied down the stairs by an impatient Janus, who caught the sight of his sister with a little relief.

"Good, you're awake," he sighed. "I was wondering how to wake up the female players, seeing as how I can't get into your dormitories. Could you go and wake our keeper up, please, she's in sixth year…"

"Yes I know, I _am_ on the team myself," grumbled Minerva. It was rumoured that the keeper, who Catherine didn't really know, had been very unimpressed that she had not been selected to Captain the team. Apparently, it had taken a good five practises before she would listen to Janus' instructions, insisting bitterly that she knew better. Lommy had given far more detailed accounts than this, although at the time Catherine had been apathetic to the world and could only recall the vague points. Minerva trotted off to wake up the keeper and Catherine looked at Lommy.

"Good luck," she smiled, just as he yawned widely. "I'm counting on a Gryffindor win."

"Wait here," ordered Janus. "I'll go and get the others up."

"Thanks Catherine," smiled Lommy sleepily. "Are you watching?"

"Would I miss it?" she challenged, grinning. Lommy's smile widened. "When Minerva comes back down, we're going to check on Glynnis."

"Oh, I hope she can play," he answered seriously. "Or you might have to step in."

"You're the second person to say that today," pouted Catherine. "Am I really such a dreadful back up plan?" Lommy laughed and raised his eyebrows. "Okay, yes, I probably am," she consented, pretending to be offended.

"Oh look, Minerva's back," he said quickly. He was right, although she was alone.

"She said she needs a few more minutes," announced Minerva. "She reminded me that she is not nocturnal and so her body it only used to getting up in daylight."

"Well, it's sunrise," shrugged Janus impatiently. "Close enough."

Catherine glanced out of the window and saw that the sky was shot with pink and orange. She also noticed that a silhouette was moving towards the window and after a moment, realised it was Morosaether. She hurried to the window and opened it hurriedly, allowing the bird to swoop through. Morosaether held out her leg, to which a letter was tied and Catherine retrieved it curiously. It was from Al Moody. He had written to her before now several times, including his results, which had all been Outstanding… literally.

_Hi Little Catherine,_

_I've been training hard recently, so I haven't had chance to write in a while. I heard about your bad news and I am so very sorry. Keep your chin up and know that I'm here for you if you need advice, because you can get through it. _

_I've got an exam tomorrow so I'll just assume you wish me the best of luck and I'll try my hardest._

Catherine smiled at this, trying to hold back the tears.

_I know you'll be visiting Hogsmeade this year, so if you want to meet up for a chat, I'm only an apparition away._

_Big Al_

Catherine pocketed the letter, feeling moved by Al's words and thinking she would reply later. Perhaps she would meet him in the Christmas Hogsmeade trip and she could buy him a present for his support.

"Come on Catherine," called Minerva. "If you're still checking on Glynnis with me, that is."

"Of course," she answered quickly. "I'm coming."

She followed Minerva, who was striding away purposefully out of the common room and they quickly ascended the stairs to get to the hospital wing. Luckily, Glynnis had recovered immensely well and even though Madam Pomfrey didn't really want her to go off to play Quiddich, the young matron had to cave under the insistent protests of the seeker herself, who was dead set on playing later that say.

"I'm going to show those Slytherins that it will take more than a stinging curse to get me off the Quidditch pitch," Glynnis insisted determinedly.

"That's the fighting spirit my brother will love to hear," grinned Minerva approvingly. "Come on then, let's get to the Great Hall for some breakfast."

"Right behind you," she replied. Catherine followed the two teammates, feeling relieved that the girl was okay. She knew that Nott had inflicted the damage and also that he had become a close acquaintance of Tom. This worried her a little, because she realised the people he spent his time with were particularly nasty and sly.

Catherine stood in the Gryffindor stand beside Llew and they both cheered as the teams flew onto the pitch.

"Room for a little one?" asked a quiet voice.

"Kate!" exclaimed Llew, looking flabbergasted. "But you're… here."

"I thought it was time," murmured Kate, looking around at Lommy who was soaring close by. Lommy looked towards them, spotted Kate and his face split into a huge grin. The three friends knew what attending would cost her and were hugely respectful of her attendance. Catherine couldn't form the words needed and embraced her friend. Shee felt Llew's longer arms winding around both of them and their silent hug was worth all the words in the world. It made them all feel better and it was not until then that they realised how heavy the weight on their chests had been. Ever since Catherine's parents had passed away, things just hadn't been the same between them. However, it felt like that was about to change and Catherine realised how much she needed these friends right now.

"And we're off!" echoed a voice around the pitch. It was a Ravenclaw boy speaking and he was widely known as a fair commentator. "It's good to see Glynnis has made a full recovery, was a trooper that girl is. Perhaps Nott should keep his distance for the game, I certainly wouldn't challenge her." Glynnis threw back her head and laughed.

"She fancies him," muttered Kate, amused. "And he does her. It's so obvious, but they never do anything about it. Christian Vector, he's called, fourth year."

"Switch and McGonagall are working well up there," added Christian. "They seem to be passing the quaffle too quickly for the Slytherins to keep up. Wait… no… Nott has sent a bludger towards Switch, who was shoved aside just in time by the Gryffindor Captain, who just fired the bludger back to the opposing side. Nice tactics. Now, Slytherin in possession, no Gryffindor back in possession. Switch is just a few feet from the goals, he's blocked by the keeper, he drops the ball but it's rescued by Minerva who puts it away easily. That was the most casual goal I've even seen, she just placed it through the post from one foot away!" The Gryffindors were laughing heartily. "Slytherin in possession, the chaser soaring towards goalposts, he scores. No sign of the snitch yet?" The supporters all craned their necks to try and spot the golden ball, but to no avail. The two seekers were equally unsure of its location. "No? Well, it will turn up eventually."

Six goals later, when both teams were on forty points, the Slytherin seeker went into a spectacular dive. Recognising the signs, Glynnis sped after him, and then suddenly came to a stop, swerved and sped in the opposite direction.

"It seems our seekers are both disagreeing on which way the snitch is going," announced Vector. "Wait no, the Slytherin seeker just turned around too. Ahh, I see, he was feinting, but the Gryffindor seeker seems to have actually spotted it during his role play. Nice try! In fact, judging by the position of the beaters, this was a pre-planned ambush. No playing dirty boys!"

The Gryffindor's were beside themselves with glee and seconds later Glynnis held her arm above her head, the snitch trapped in her fist. However, just as the crowd roared, Nott aimed a bludger straight at Lommy and he fell right off his broom and landed, sprawled, on the ground. The Gryffindor cheers turned to cries of outrage, and the Slytherin groans became cruel jeers. Catherine could see, to her own fury, Tom was one of the jeering choruses.

"No, no, no, no," Kate was whimpering. "Not again, no, no, no."

"He'll be okay," said Llew, in a shaky voice, wrapping an arm around the now sobbing Kate. Madam Hooch had soared down beside the boy and could see the blood dripping from his head, in the place that the bludger had made contact. She quickly produced a stretcher with a flourish of her wand and levitated the injured boy away. Slughorn had gone purple in the face and - enraged in a way that no one had even seen before - he screamed at his house.

"Shut up this instant or you will all be in detention for the rest of your school career," he bawled. They were all silenced simply through shock. "NOTT!" he roared and the boy who had moments ago been jeering and enjoying congratulations from his teammates, landed beside his teacher in the stand, looking worried. "Give me that!" he growled snatching the broomstick from him before he'd even had time to get off properly. He gasped in pain as it smacked his… more delicate areas… and Slughorn towered over him. "You are lucky I'm not expelling you! That is not how you behave, do you hear me? You are banned, banned from playing. You have betrayed my trust, so you're off the team... for good this time!"

Tom felt a little smug with his handy work. He knew that Nott was going to attack Lommy to prove his loyalty and he also knew that this would get him thrown off the team. Tom would now have his fuller attention and it wouldn't be long before Mulciber followed suit once he realised he was missing out on time with the Knights. Also, it gave the creature in his head an odd surge of pleasure to see Switch in his current weak state; it made him feel stronger, as though he was overcoming his rivals. Oddly, the more human side of him was also secretly glad of this injury; perhaps he would get more time with Catherine if he wasn't around for a while. A Gryffindor victory would surely result in bringing the team and house closer together and he couldn't have that now, could he?

Catherine, Kate and Llew rushed to the hospital wing with the Gryffindor team, desperate to see if Lommy was okay. Madam Pomfery had anticipated their arrival and so locked the hospital wing doors in order to tend to her new patient. After ten minutes of hammering on the door and insisting they weren't moving until they knew what was going on, the matron opened a small hatch and peered through.

"Look, he's going to be alright, but I'm still trying to treat him and it's very distracting when you're trying to knock the door down!" she told them in a harassed voice. "You can see him in an hour or so, when I'm satisfied his condition is stable."

The group didn't move and waited for their permission to enter. After hearing he would be alright, Kate had calmed down considerably and was in the arms of Llew, who was gently stroking her fair hair. Catherine's heart, which had been thrumming quickly with the burst of adrenaline, had finally settled back to a more normal pace and she felt a surge of relief that Lommy was going to recover. She had been afraid for a moment that she might lose him too, as had Kate, a scenario neither of them could cope with. If Llew had experienced the same fear, he had concealed it well, knowing that if the girls fell apart, he needed to be strong.

It was actually an hour and a half later when Madam Pomfrey let them in.

"Now don't go exciting him," she warned, "and you've got fifteen minutes, so make it a quick visit."

Catherine took a brief second to muse at the unlined face of the, as we might say, Nurse and wondered how long it would be before the stress of the job was permanently etched in her skin. Then, this thought was pushed aside by the sight of Lommy who was sat up in bed, his left arm in a sling, his left leg propped up and sporting a bandage that was wrapped firmly around his head.

"Well at least we won," Lommy said, cutting the silence that had descended. The others laughed and piled around his bed telling him about how much he had scared them and that he needed to work on his dodging techniques.

"Yes Lommy," frowned the Captain. "Just because I pulled you away from one bludger's path, doesn't mean you're not allowed to do some ducking yourself."

"Sorry Captain," mumbled Lommy, trying not to smile.

"No..." continued Janus, his voice suddenly serious. "If I get hold of that Nott, I'll smack him with my bat. That was foul play, utterly foul. That little piece of-" he caught Madam Pomfrey's eye and changed tact. "Vermin."

"I hate him," scowled Minerva. "He was trying to get Lommy all through the game."

"What do you mean?" asked Llew, frowning.

"Whenever he got a shot at the bludger, he kept aiming it at Lommy," she informed them, "never anyone else and when he finally got him, he turned to Mulciber and said 'Tom will kiss my feet for this one'."

"What?" demanded Lommy. "Riddle?"

"Must be," said Minerva fervently.

"Riddle put him up to it?" asked Llew aghast. They looked at Catherine.

"No, he wouldn't," Catherine said meekly, looking at Lommy and wondering.

"He hates me, Catherine," whispered Lommy. "You know he does."

"I…I've got to go," she stammered. "I need to… to think. I'm glad you're okay Lommy, I really am, but I don't think he would do this."

She left the group hurriedly, feeling worried and distressed. Was Tom really the reason that Lommy had sustained such an injury? Was he responsible for putting her friend's life at risk?

She didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't. He couldn't. No. He _didn't_, she decided, the person to blame was Nott, the one who actually inflicted the damage. She decided she wouldn't even confront him about it, because he would angrily point out that he wasn't the one with the beaters bat. Yet… her mind kept flitting back to the stadium and the coldly gleeful expression Tom had worn as he jeered at her injured best friend.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 13**

"Are you avoiding me?"

Catherine jumped slightly at the demanding tone of the voice that had suddenly appeared behind her.

"Whatever gives you that impression, Tom?" Catherine asked, continuing to browse the library shelf she was stood before and not looking round.

"You haven't spoken to me since your _friend_ was injured," he pointed out, anger in his voice.

Catherine bit her lip and concentrated even harder on a small blue-bound book that sat on the self. She stared intensely at the title, but couldn't take it in. "So it's going to be the silent treatment?"

Again, Catherine did not respond and pulled the book from the shelf, flicking through it with glazed eyes.

"Have I upset you?" he asked, his voice calmer. He waited for a minute, then became impatient, seized her arm and pulled her around to face him, causing the book to topple to the floor. It was sheer bad luck that the librarian chose that moment to appear around a bookshelf and on seeing her precious volume topple to the floor, positively chased the two of them away, flapping like a harassed goose.

"Oh great, thanks for that," panted Catherine once they were safely out of reach.

"What have I done?" demanded Tom, ignoring this comment and grabbing her shoulders.

"You just stood and laughed at him; jeered even, when he was down," she muttered angrily. "And he's my friend." Tom realised what she was referring to.

"I'm your friend, too," he pointed out. "Is that really all this is about?" She didn't answer. No, the real motive for avoiding him was that she suspected Tom was the reason her friend had landed himself in a hospital bed, despite trying to convince herself otherwise. She had been so intent on not confronting him, but suddenly, she realised she had to know. Tom saw the conflict in her eyes. "What else is it? There's more, I can tell."

"Was it you?" she asked, avoiding his gaze. "Are you the reason Nott attacked Lommy?"

Tom ensured his face was composed. Admittedly, he needn't have bothered, because Catherine appeared too distressed to look him in the eye.

"No Catherine," he assured her softly. "Of course not. I will not pretend I like that particular friend of yours, but Nott did this off his own bat… so to speak."

Catherine thought he was too calm, surely he should be angry. Yet she dared to look up into his face and saw sincerity there.

"But you did still laugh at him," she frowned. "You still made fun of someone who was hurt."

"Perhaps that was wrong of me," shrugged Tom. "I'm sorry if it upset you."

"It did," admitted Catherine, sadly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered reverently. She held his gaze for a prolonged moment, then nodded.

Filled with a relief that Catherine was back on speaking terms with him, Tom ensured he remained on his best behaviour with her for that year. He refrained from insulting her friends and provoking her at all, knowing that she was still a little vulnerable due to her losses. Or at least, he remained on his best behaviour as far as she knew. The underhand, if not controlling creature in his mind, still collected followers and influenced events that terrorised unsuspecting Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, although never directly by his hand and usually without the Knight responsible being caught.

He turned his attentions back to family research and decided he would persist with his original newspaper idea, determined to discover new information about his heritage, no matter how long it took him. He also pondered endlessly about the Basilisk, wondering whether he had the gall to find the beast and hoping that should he one day decide to, it wouldn't turn on him.

One day, he was feeling particularly curious, so he travelled to the second floor corridor, where he had heard the voice and waited; wondering if it would speak to him. As he stood, a spider scuttled past him with unusual haste and the sight raised goosebumps all over his body.

"_Join me_," the voice hissed suddenly. Tom froze, although his heart seemed to bounce hyperactively around his ribcage. A pause followed, which was so long, Tom began to question his sanity. Then again, but louder, nearer. "_Join me_," then from his left, "_join me_," then his right, "_join me_" as though the voice was emanating from the walls themselves. It repeated its chant from below him through the floor, then above him, as though he was in the presence of an expert ventriloquist, whose voice could be everywhere and anywhere. He finally gathered the courage to speak.

"Stop," he commanded firmly. "Who are you?"

"_Your humble servant_," the voice replied, with a deep echoing quality that suggested great size. "_Not worthy to look you in the eye_." A trace of humour was in the voice. Tom shuddered slightly. One look was all it would take for death.

"Did you once serve Salazar?" asked Tom, pushing aside his fears, but glancing around to ensure no one was around to hear him.

"_Yes_," replied the voice. "_Long ago, so long that I do not know, for I have slept since the day he died, under an enchanted sleep which only permitted me to wake when the his Heir entered the castle. You are the Heir of Slytherin._"

"How did you know it was me?" asked Tom, quietly.

"_I did not_," it replied. "_I have merely been calling for an unknown heir since the day I awoke, knowing he would be the one to hear and someday reply. You are the first to answer me_."

"Others may speak the tongue," argued Tom, frowning slightly and turning his body. The voice was always moving, never stationary.

"_Others did not hear my call_."

"I heard your call long ago, I ignored it," Tom said darkly.

"_Had you merely been a boy who spoke the tongue, I would not answer to you. But I know you are the Heir. I feel it, I know it. The scent of Slytherin surrounds you; his blood is in your veins. We both know the truth and I answer only to you_."

"So, you are a basilisk?" asked Tom in a would-be casual voice. "Do you have a name?"

"_Most call me 'the monster'_," it replied silkily. "_I have no real name_."

"Well then, my fanged friend," replied Riddle, lightly. "Our conversation has been most enlightening. However, I will not be joining you for now. I will, however, talk to you again in the meantime." Tom heard the authority in his own voice and knew, to his surprise, that the creature would accept his word without question or challenge."

"_As you wish, young master_," he answered with something of a sigh.

During his conversation with the great snake, a thought had occurred to him and he rushed immediately to the Library. If it was confirmed that he was a blood relative of Slytherin, then surely he could track his blood line between himself and the Hogwarts founder. With the name Marvolo for his grandfather, he felt that he had a better chance of tracking his family line and therein, location. This way, he might be able to confine dates to allow a shorter browse through the old Daily Prophet newspapers that were kept in the Library.

The diary he'd received from Catherine now held many facts and nuggets of research procured about the Hogwarts founder, the secret chamber, the basilisk and his family. As he carefully examined many books on the line of Slytherin, he added to his growing information bank and really felt he was piecing the evidence together. He created what was effectively a family tree, simplified into the most direct route from the founder to himself. Unfortunately, he did not manage to finish this project that year and spent a large proportion of the summer holidays brooding and thinking about the missing links in the blood chain.

For Catherine, summer was a very strange and emotional experience. She returned to King's Cross Station with her three closest housemates and was greeted warmly by the Switchs. She knew that she was to live with the family over the summer, but as she stepped through their front door, a wave of pain swept over her. She seemed to flash back to the Christmas holidays, when Clyde and Mae had produced sparks from wands, impressing herself and her… her…

Lommy sensed her distress and wordlessly placed an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side gently and reassuringly. He knew this would be hard for her. He had strictly forbidden his parents to mention it, knowing that they would only end up confessing guilt for not having saved the couple and upsetting Catherine even more. Lommy guided his friend up the stairs and into the guest room, which was now to be hers. He realised that she was leaning towards him and was relying on his support. He sat her down on the bed, pushed a strand of her hair out of her face and smiled at her warmly. Then, he left the room, knowing she would want a few moments to gather herself together. Catherine heard him go downstairs and speak to him parents in a low voice and knew they were discussing her. However, she was determined not to break down. She had grown stronger over the last few months and knew that she had no choice but to move forward.

She appreciated the fact that Lommy didn't mention it and that he remained in high spirits, like the ray of sunshine he seemed to be. He made sure there were no dull moments and his laughter filled, if only for short bursts, the hollow places in her chest; eased the sting of the wounds. He was her rock and that made her stronger.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 14**

In their fourth year at Hogwarts, all workloads were stepped up, as the OWLs would take place the following year. Luckily for Tom, he was a particularly dedicated student, which meant he still had time to continue with his family tree. With weeks of effort and sorting through the numerous articles, he at last became aware of his roots.

Without a doubt, Tom Riddle Senior was a muggle, as he had already suspected. His maternal grandfather, who could be traced back to Slytherin had the family name Gaunt and Tom was pretty sure he knew where the man must live (a place close to Little Hangleton). He had also been studying an array of spells and had come across the unforgiveable curses. He had also come across the ominous sounding term: horcruxes. The unforgiveable curses were easy enough to research, however, a passing mention of the word horcruxes had invoked an odd determination to research them, but he could find nothing in the library. He had also made a study of memory modification spells and even practised them on unwitting victims.

The discovery of his family line had been the final straw for Tom where his father was concerned and he was determined to discard the name. One night, he sat cross-legged on his bed and opened the diary on his lap. He wrote: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Then, he began to rearrange the letters in order to mask himself behind a new name. Hours later he became tired of the book, not having found the name he desired. He whipped out his wand and traced the same three words in the air. Then, he closed his eyes waved his wand and allowed the letters to rearrange themselves at random. I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

He knew, as he watched the flickering letters that this was it. Moreover, Lestrange chose that moment to walk into the room and read the gleaming letters. The boy shuddered at the words. Riddle felt a strange sense of power radiating from the rearranged letters. When he looked at this name, he knew it was the one, as though he had always known. Perhaps the words hadn't formed by coincidence, but more likely by his subconscious. Had he not just spent hours looking at those sixteen letters in multiple arrangements? Was it not likely that the name had fashioned itself unconsciously. To Tom's utter surprise, Lestrange sank to his knees.

"Lord," he muttered. "Lord of the Knights."

The boy had not said the name aloud. He appeared frightened to. Could a name really produce such an effect? Or had he temporary lost touch of his senses?

"Yes," whispered Tom. "I am Lord Voldemort. This name is truer to what is inside me than ordinary, dull… _Tom_." He said the name with utter contempt. "My sorry excuse for a father should not share his name with me. I will not be linked to that _muggle_. Rise Lestrange, we have followers to gather. My new name must be held in utmost secrecy. Tell it only to my inner circle, the original and first Knights, but also tell them to keep it to themselves."

Lestrange obeyed without question and although he showed none of this on his face, Tom felt thoroughly nonplussed at the power he was exercising.

Conversations with his fanged servant continued regularly, although he suspected the snake was becoming more restless at its confinement. Tom had decided to ask the snake about the horcruxes.

"_Slytherin did mention them once_," the seemingly bodiless voice informed him. "_'The closest thing to immortality there is,' he called it._"

"Immortality?" asked Riddle, surprise colouring his tone. "Are you sure about that? What did he say they are?"

"_The school stored the information," _hissed the voice from inside the wall. "_All I know is it is of the darkest magic known to your kind and that it is an enchanted object_."

Riddle made a mental note to add this to his diary and wondered just how dark the magic was.

"When you say darkest, do you mean darker than the Unforgiveable Curses?" Tom wondered aloud. "Do you know what they are?"

"_Of course Lord_." Tom smiled slightly at being addressed this way. _Young master_, which the snake had been accustomed to calling him, was a little patronising. "_The curses of control, torture and murder. I am led to believe horcuxes are darker_."

"Darker than murder?" asked Tom, wonderingly.

"_Lord, I have told you all I know,_" the snake hissed. "_I think the darkness of a crime depends on the perspective of the one who commits it. Murder is nothing to me._"

Riddle felt a shiver at the cool indifference in the words.

"I must go," he said hurriedly. "Thank you for your time."

"_I do hope you will free me soon_," moaned the voice. Tom ignored this and left the second floor corridor. He hurried up flights of stairs and along passageways until he found himself on an empty and unknown corridor of Hogwarts. He leaned against a wall, which stretched out either side of him and held no portraits. He became restless and paced up and down the corridor, thinking about the conversation with the basilisk. _Murder is nothing to me._

Nothing? The creature in his head was angry. The snake, a mere reptile, was stronger than he was. The boy in his head was cowering in the presence of the creature and confused thoughts whirled around his mind. The creature took hold and reminded him about the horcruxes. As Tom paced up and down he thought about them and wanted to know what they were.

Suddenly, to his utter surprise, a door appeared in the wall beside him. Where had it come from? The creature drove him forward and he pushed the door open, slowly, then slipped through, closing it behind himself. He was in a small room, which held an ornate round table, beside which sat a matching chair and on which lay a book. The book was old, jet black and was covered in a thick layer of dust. The room was lit by a few candle lights and beside the book was an elaborate lantern. Something about the room made him stay silent and he approached the book slowly then raised his hand to clear the dusk. As soon as he wiped his hand across the spot of dust that seemed to conceal the title, the candles and lantern suddenly flared, illuminating the room and book theatrically. One word was embellished on the cover:

HORCRUX.

Breathing heavily, he removed the excess dust, to see no author was printed anywhere on the volume. He placed his hand on the cover, ready to open it, when he paused. A small, frightened voice in his head was begging him to stop, pleading with him not to look, but to leave and never return. Nevertheless, the darker side of him won again and he flung open the first page. Immediately, the lights in the room turned blood red and the flames from the candles separated themselves and whooshed around the room, going faster and faster.

"STOP," Riddle commanded. The lights retreated back to their places and returned to their original and natural intensity. He smiled to himself, then looked back at the book.

_The horcrux is the darkest magical object in the wizarding world. Be assured that this book gives the fullest instructions on how to create one, but the danger of doing so to the wizard in question could be catastrophic. If the horcrux is created successfully, it will preserve life, even when the body is beyond repair, however it damages the soul, sometimes beyond restoration. Any witch or wizard attempting this magic should know that they do so at the price of their soul and although there is one way of reversing the damage, this itself could cause death. Any wizard who sees the ability to reverse the damage a positive, should not make a horcrux at all._

_This book will not only instruct the creation, but advise the protection of the horcrux. The chosen object will need all the protection available to it once made, as rivals will target it on learning of its existence. It is far more advisable to keep this particular creation a secret._

The creature of his mind was disturbingly fascinated and he read on hungrily, ignoring the part of his mind that protested against the whole thing.

Tom discovered that murder was required, which would split the soul. The severed soul could then be placed into a chosen object and as long as it was protected, would keep him alive, even if the body he occupied was killed. Tom found himself absentmindedly thinking about which objects he felt were worthy to hold _his_ soul. He shook this thought away. The book even gave instructions on how to replace a body and advised that one dedicated follower would be needed for this magic. Tom caught himself wildly thinking about having more than one horcrux. Surely, the more there were, the more protected the wizard. Wasn't seven supposed to be the strongest magical number? Seven horcruxes that were well hidden and protected would make one almost impossible to kill. Hadn't he insisted that he would be the greatest sorcerer, hadn't he talked to Catherine about ambition and determination… Catherine.

Tom suddenly came back to himself and leapt away from the book. Seven horcruxes? Seven? That would mean murdering seven people! Something like disgust pushed the creature into a cage at the back of his mind and he hurried from the room, slamming the door behind him.

_You're too weak_, the creature whispered from behind its metaphorical bars, _too weak_.

"Tom?" called a familiar voice, which made him jump. Catherine hurried down the corridor looking worried. "What's the matter? You've gone as white as a sheet."

"I-" Tom glanced behind him to where the door was, but it had vanished. He stared at the blank wall, confused.

"Tom?" Catherine said loudly, shaking him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he replied, managing to compose himself at last. "Why are you up here?"

"Looking for you," she shrugged, watching him a little suspiciously. She wasn't convinced that he was completely alright. "Someone saw you coming up this way three quarters of an hour ago and I've been wandering around since." Tom felt strangely heartened.

"You've spent all this time looking for me?" he asked. "What for, is something wrong?"

"No," she smiled, seeming to forget her previous suspicion. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. It feels like we haven't in ages; you're always with your Slytherin friends."

"Do you miss me?" he teased, but really hoping for a certain answer.

"I guess I do," she pouted, linking his arm with her own. "So I'm claiming you for a while."

"You know, Slughorn is having a party tonight," Tom said, smiling a particularly handsome smile. "We should go together." Catherine's face suddenly fell. "What is it?"

"Well," mumbled Catherine. "Well, I kinda promised Lommy I'd invite him and show him what it's like. He's been so great to me over the summer and-" Tom had pulled his arm away from her.

"I see," he said, the smile now absent from his face. "So what, are you two together now?"

"What? No!" answered Catherine, wondering dimly why he was even asking. "We're just friends."

"Okay," nodded Tom, his face relaxing a little. He held his arm out to Catherine again, but she was frowning.

"What is wrong with the idea of me and Lommy?" she demanded curtly.

"I don't like him," shrugged Tom. "We wouldn't get to spend much time together."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but we _haven't_ been spending much time together, anyway."

"I know," sighed Tom, trying not to be wound up. "I've missed you too."

She immediately softened at this and slipped her arm around his. Tom felt oddly glad when she did, although he felt extremely startled at his own reaction to the idea of Catherine and Lombard. Why did it matter to him so much that they might be together? He was Lord Voldemort, after all.

No, right now he didn't feel like Lord Voldemort; he felt like Tom Riddle, Catherine's friend. Voldemort seemed to be the name of the creature that was now locked up inside his head, not the teenage boy who was in such close contact to the girl beside him. The direct contact between the two of them seemed to teem with a certain electricity and as they walked together, Tom had the strange desire for this to never end. This was the most and longest contact the two of them had ever had, but that evening at Slughorn's party, something happened that made Tom burn with what could only be described as hateful jealousy.

The party had been particularly enjoyable and Catherine had made time for Tom as well as Lommy. However, at the end, Tom saw that Lommy's arm was placed around Catherine's waist and the two embraced, while laughing heartily. Tom was furious. How dare that boy hold her like that! He had no right to. Catherine had said they were just friends, why wasn't she protesting? Wasn't Tom supposed to be her friend? Yet she only linked arms with _him_.

The fire of the jealousy became unbearable and he left in a silent rage, wanting to cool off. He returned to the corridor in which the mysterious room had appeared before and stared at the blank wall, wondering how to conjure the room. Last time it appeared, he had been pacing and wishing. He walked past the wall thinking about the room he'd seen earlier and became aware that the creature had been unleashed. After the third walk past the wall, the door sprang into existence. This time, the room didn't bother with the dramatics and he opened the book to where he had reached last time and continued reading. Murder. It didn't sound too bad a prospect, depending on the victim chosen. Lombard Switch sounded like an excellent candidate. After a while however, he knew that the fury towards Switch was based around Catherine. Hurting him would hurt her. He had already seen the effects of losing someone on her. He had hated feeling powerless against her pain. He left the room at that point, the thoughts of Catherine's pain pushing the creature back into its prison. As his anger ebbed away, he started to wonder if he had been serious about murdering the boy. In a literal sense, he thought not, yet the impulse had not come from the creature, but from his arguably better side. The creature had merely taken advantage of the situation in order to satisfy its thirst for evil knowledge.

Throughout the year, the battles in Tom's head became more difficult and he often found himself back in the strange room. After a while, he tried pacing past the room and asking for different things. To his utter surprise the room delivered everything he asked for, although it didn't seem able to provide food and he was fixated with the potential that came with it. He explored its abilities with intrigue and congratulated himself on the excellent discovery. He could do so much with this room, without fear of detection and that he did.

* * *

><p><em>Come on readers, who's going to admit it? When I mentioned the "sixteen letters" some of you went back and counted, just to make sure I was right ;)<em>

_Hope you're liking the new developments. The next chapter will be in their OWL year. Keep reading for some dramas..._


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 15**

The letter was addressed to him, bearing the Hogwarts crest and tied carefully to the leg of a large brown owl. Tom noticed the envelope was a little heavier than normal and when he picked it up, he could feel something slide inside it. Feeling unexplainably excited, he slit it open and pulled out three pieces of parchment and a small green and sliver badge which bore the letter "P". Could it be? He glanced at the pieces of parchment.

One was welcoming him back to Hogwarts, which he received every year and another was the list of set books he would need to buy. The third, however, was new to him and as he unfolded it, he felt a triumphant smile cross his face.

_Dear Mr T. Riddle _

_I am very pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of the new school prefects (please find your badge enclosed). You will be required to attend a meeting on the Hogwarts Express with the other prefects to discuss your duties in compartment one. Congratulations on your success._

_Best regards_

_Professor A. Dippet_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardary_

Tom looked again at the small badge, feeling wildly victorious. So, the school had named him a leader, given him authority over others - not that he technically needed it - but this meant he could wander the castle after hours without the worry of any repercussion. He even had the power to implement punishments for wrongdoers.

He was in his favourite spot in the park as he read the letters and suddenly wished Catherine was there with him. She hadn't written as much this summer and he wanted to share this triumph with her. As the owl was preparing to take flight, he called it back.

"Wait," he almost shouted, causing the owl to ruffle his feathers indignantly. "I need you to send a letter for me."

The owl waited as he carefully removed the blank piece of paper at the back of his diary, which was open on his lap and scribbled a hurried note to Catherine. He then tied the letter to the owl's leg with the same string that had held on his messages from Hogwarts and gave instructions as to who he should deliver the message to. The owl then spread his wings obediently and took flight, looking startlingly magnificent in the sunset that was just beginning. Soon the owl was merely a silhouette against an orange sky.

Carefully, Tom attached the badge to the front of his jumper and found himself constantly looking at it or playing with in. As the sky darkened further, he thought it best to return to the orphanage and so left the spot, ready to face the children that would undoubtedly be causing havoc.

As he opened the front door, Mrs Cole glanced at him, then spotted the badge. She narrowed her eyes slightly.

"What is that?" she asked; her voice fairly even.

"It's a prefect badge, from the school," Tom smiled. "They sent it to me."

"They chose you as a prefect?" she asked, failing to conceal her surprise.

"Yes," answered Tom patiently. "It's brilliant isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," she replied, shocked. Then her attention was caught by the twin boys that had arrived at the house a week ago. They were six years old and incredibly mischievous. The last orphanage had apparently tired of racing around after them and they had been transferred to this one.

"You two," called Tom, regarding the boys and they immediately stopped what they were doing to look at him. "Mrs Cole has enough to deal with, _without_ you to behaving like that! Apologise to her and go to your room." Something in the stern authority of his voice left the two children powerless.

"Sorry," they both mumbled, before hurrying up the stairs. Mrs Cole's stunned expression had returned.

"How did you-?" she began.

"Thought you could do with a break," he smiled innocently, before venturing up the stairs to his own room.

When Catherine received Tom's letter it was during a huge party at the new Switch house. Although, magic had preserved the house when the bombs had fallen, the old house held too many painful memories of lost neighbours and they had decided it was best to move. Both Llew's and Kate's families had been stopping at the leaky cauldron, but both families had received some excellent news. Kate and Llew had been made school prefects and then to top it off, Lommy was now the new Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The celebrations lasted well into the night, although the house was admittedly protected by magic, in case another Nazi plane was to fly over London. This meant that the lights and music could not been seen or heard outside the protective shield. To say Catherine didn't feel a little left out would be a lie, but mostly she was thrilled for her three best friends. Then, when Tom's letter came, she felt another slight twinge, but wrote an immediate reply and sent the note with Morosaether rather than the Hogwarts owl. Once the celebrations were over, she lay in her bed, overwhelmed with sleepiness and looking forward to her return to Hogwarts; she was really missing the castle.

On the Hogwarts Express, Tom entered compartment one, as instructed and was shortly joined by other prefects, including two of Catherine's friend, Llew and Kate. Tom had no particular feelings towards these two, it was only Lombard Switch he felt hostility towards and it gave him an unpleasant feeling to know that he would at this moment be alone in a compartment with Catherine. He seethed slightly, as the current Head Boy explained their duties.

As it was, Tom was wrong. Catherine _was _with Lommy, but they had also been joined by Myrtle and Hagrid, a rather unusual gathering. Apparently, Olive Hornby had been bullying Myrtle again and Hagrid was happily insulting the Slytherin in an attempt to cheer the mopy girl up. It was so difficult to gain a positive response that Catherine felt sure Myrtle's glass was always and would always be half empty.

"So Hagrid," said Catherine, interrupting one of Myrtle's whining sessions. "What's this about sneaking off to wrestle trolls?"

Hagrid, who filled three times the seat space of anyone else in the compartment, let out a bark of laughter, his boyish face filled with mischief.

"Ain't as bad as yer think," he chortled. "They're too weak; too easy ter beat."

"Trolls are too easy to beat?" Lommy demanded. "You're making me feel bad now." Then he added in a stage whisper. "You're making me look weak in front of the ladies."

Catherine elbowed him and to her utter surprise, Myrtle giggled. Everyone in the compartment looked at her in surprise.

"What?" she asked, her shoulders shaking from laughter. "It's funny."

As the train rushed past the neat green fields, Catherine noted Myrtle's reactions to Lommy. She would continually giggle at any joke he made, even the dreadful ones and began to play with her hair and blush when he looked her way. Lommy, who wasn't used to attention like this, seemed a little confused, yet slightly overconfident.

"So, you've got a new friend?" whispered Catherine pointedly as Myrtle got up to buy something from the trolley, which had just been parked outside the door. His eyes widened as he realised exactly what she was getting at.

"No," he whispered. "She's just being friendly, it's not like that… is it?"

Catherine raised her eyebrows and didn't answer, wondering at the uncomfortable expression that was now plaguing the face of her friend.

"Here, I thought you might like this," Myrtle said shyly, handing Lommy a cauldron cake.

"Oh, thanks," he replied, unsure of himself. "That's really nice of you." He exchanged a look with Catherine, who inclined her head towards Myrtle slightly. Ever since Myrtle's mood had picked up, Catherine had found her to be quite a pleasant individual and if Lommy could produce such an effect on someone who always seemed pessimistic, he must be good for her. He cleared his throat and looked back at Catherine with a strange expression, with an intensity she had never witnessed before. She repeated the gesture with her head, this time with an encouraging smile and he turned his eyes, almost reluctantly, away from her and back to Myrtle.

All this time, no one in their little group of four had been in a relationship. Love _had_ been in the air for some, as the seeker, Glynnis had finally been asked out by the Ravenclaw boy, Christian Vector. At the end of last year, Glynnis had told the common room that they were going to meet up over the summer and she was exceptionally excited. The others cheered, as they had hoped the two would get together for ages.

In a way, she knew that Llew and Kate were meant to be together and in many ways was surprised that they weren't yet; but herself and Lommy? No, he was like a brother to her and had been for years now. However, the intense look that had held her gaze for those brief seconds had struck a chord with her. What did it mean? Before she could think about it any further however, Kate and Llew appeared at the compartment door and she forgot all about it.

"They're here!" exclaimed Kate, sliding the door open and tugging on Llew's arm. "Trust you to pick one of the furthest compartments! Hello, you two," she added to Hagrid and Myrtle. Catherine moved to share the seat with Hagrid and the other four sat opposite them. It was quite a tight squeeze.

Sometime later, Tom walked past the compartment and caught site of Catherine. He glanced at the group she was sharing with and his eyebrows rose almost involuntarily.

"Tom's there," announced Catherine. Everyone looked around.

"Oh, him," muttered Hagrid, looking at the boy with distaste. Myrtle, however, began to tremble slightly, which Lommy noticed, as he was sat beside her. His expression matched Hagrid's. Llew and Kate kept their expression neutral and as Catherine stood up to join him, they both gave her a small smile.

"Nothing like a warm welcome," murmured Tom after Catherine closed the compartment door behind them. They walked away, talking about their summers and admiring Tom's badge.

Back in the compartment, Lommy turned to Myrtle.

"What is it?" he asked, with a little too much urgency in his voice. She didn't reply. "Myrtle?"

She looked up at the sound of her name and swallowed loudly.

"It's _him_," Myrtle whispered, looking close to tears.

"Filth," muttered Hagrid. "That's wha' he is, filth."

"Why?" asked Kate, a little stunned.

"Ringleader in' he?" growled Hagrid. "Got all 'is gang ter laugh at me; pickin' on me, like. Never gets caught though, does he?"

"Remember when we first met?" whispered Myrtle, timidly.

"Yes?" asked Lommy kindly.

"It was him that broke my glasses," she said timidly.

"Well 'e would," muttered Hagrid. "Normally gets 'is gang ter do the dirty work, mind."

"But, I thought… Olive?" inserted Kate, unsure.

"She was there," Myrtle replied, shuddering slightly. "But he set some magic birds on me, said that if I stole magic, because my parents aren't magical, they would peck the magic out of me. Then when I tried to escape I broke my glasses and the birds were gone. They just laughed. Whenever he's alone he doesn't normally notice me, but when he's with his friends, he laughs. then they all call me thief and make bird sounds. Olive is always teasing me."

Although he wasn't sure how it had happened, Lommy found he had his arm around Myrtle, to comfort her as she had begun to sob.

"I _hate _him," spat Lommy. "Slytherin through and through and we've let Catherine go off with _that_."

Llew and Kate were exchanging worried looks. All this time they had tried to be loyal to Catherine by trusting her judgement, but this new information about Tom had unsettled them.

"And they still made him a prefect," groaned Llew, thinking about the meeting.

"They _what_?" Lommy exploded, causing Myrtle to jump out of her skin. "Oops, sorry Myrtle. They what?" he repeated in a more contained voice. "They made him a prefect? Given him power over students, despite the bully he is? You need to report him, Myrtle."

"I can't," she whimpered. "It wouldn't make a difference, no one would believe me."

"The worst part is," muttered Llew. "She's probably right, the teachers simply adore him."

"Then what do we do?" asked Kate desperately.

"Well first, we get Catherine out of there and show her what he really is," Llew answered gravely. "She's too good and trusting to see what he is like. We owe it to her to try; she's our friend after all."

"You're right," sighed Kate. "Let me speak to her though, at least let me try, first."

"We should get her now," argued Lommy. "Get her away from him."

"It wouldn't work," sighed Llew. "She'd just be stubborn, refuse to come with us, paint _us _as the bad ones. We've got to get this right."

They all exchanged sombre looks.

"You what?" demanded Catherine that evening, sitting in her four poster bed.

"Just listen, Catherine," pleaded Kate desperately "Myrtle said-"

"I don't _care_ what Myrtle said, Tom is my friend. You can't just tell me I shouldn't see him anymore."

"Please just listen," Kate begged, her voice filled with despair.

"No, Kate," glared Catherine. "I know Lommy hates him, but I thought you were better than that!"

"Yes, which is surely why you should give me the chance to explain myself," Kate pointed out grimly. Catherine faltered and looked her friend in the face.

"Okay," she said, more calmly. "Let's hear it."

Kate recounted the conversation that had taken place after Catherine had left with Tom.

"So you see," concluded Kate. "Tom was the reason Myrtle's glasses broke when we first met her. You should have seen her, Catherine; she was trembling all over when he came."

"Tom?" This was the first word she had spoken since consenting to hear Kate's side of the story as she had listened raptly. "He…" She was unable to word her opinions. She didn't know what to think or believe. The grave manner of Kate meant she was very serious and she really believed what she was saying.

"Catherine, I know he's your friend," said Kate gently, "but what he did to her was cruel."

"Maybe she's lying," disagreed Catherine. "Yeah, she likes Lommy, she thinks that hating Tom will show solidarity against Slytherin and-"

"Catherine!" groaned Kate, exasperatedly.

"No, I'm sorry," said Catherine, wriggling under her covers and pulling them up to her chin. "I'm going to ask Tom before I believe her."

"He'll lie," sighed Kate.

"I'll be able to tell," insisted Catherine, rolling over onto her other side. "Night." However, Catherine felt uneasy and her next conversation with Tom couldn't come quick enough.

The first chance she got to confront him came the following morning. She arose early, due to unsettled dreams and after quickly getting changed, crept out of the dormitory, as not to wake the others. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and headed down the numerous staircases. On the second floor, she spotted Tom leaning against the wall across from one of the girl's bathrooms. He looked as though he was listening intently to something. As she approached him, he made a strange sound, like a sigh, though slightly harsher sounding and as he did so looked around him and spotted Catherine. For a brief second, his eyes flashed with something close to fear or perhaps just shock and then he smiled and waved at her. She did not return the smile as she couldn't work the muscles.

As she approached him, he turned his head away for a second as though he was speaking to an invisible person that was stood behind him and then looked back at her. The smile on his face slid down as he caught her gaze.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, eyeing her apprehensively.

"I need to talk to you," she said, then she bit her lip.

"Okay," he answered cautiously. "Shall we go for a walk and…?" His question trailed off.

"It's about Myrtle," Catherine said hurriedly, before she could stop herself. Tom made no remark and if anything looked a little puzzled. "She's a Ravenclaw, year below and wears glasses." Something like comprehension glinted in his eyes.

"What about her?" he asked, a little stiffly.

"Have you… well… said something… or done something… that might have… upset her?" Tom just looked at her steadily. "I mean," Catherine continued. "When we first saw her, she was upset and had her glasses broken except she made out you were the one that caused it." She waited.

"Is that what she said?" he demanded, looking angry. Catherine was suddenly struck by the idea that if it was true, she has just dropped Myrtle in it big time.

"Well, I wasn't there, Kate said-" Catherine tried to explain but was cut short.

"So of course, Myrtle chose _now_, two years later, to mention this, did she?" asked Tom. "How very convenient. Hasn't it occurred to you that she might have mentioned this _before _now, you know, _at the time_?"

"Well, not if she was scared-"

"Catherine, what do you think of me?" he asked furiously. "_Really_? You think I'm some kind of monster, I can only assume."

"No, I never said that," she argued. "I just wanted your side of the story. I wasn't ready to believe them; I wanted to hear it from you." Then she appraised him. "But when you're in this mood, it's almost easy to believe what they accuse you of." She was angry now, too.

"Catherine," groaned Tom, in the same way Kate had. "Do you really think I did this?" He looked her in the eyes with a pleading expression.

"Did you?" Catherine asked, not relenting. He held her gaze for a prolonged moment.

"No," he answered quietly. "No I didn't."

* * *

><p><em>Needless to say, Tom isn't being very honest. But what will he do, now he knows Myrtle revealed his little secret? Keep reading to find out...<em>


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 16**

"That girl," spat Tom, leaning against the wall of the second floor corridor. "That stupid, whiny little girl almost cost me Catherine's trust."

"_Catherine being the reason you got rid of me in our last conversation?_" the voice asked, almost sullenly.

Tom disregarded this, "She might be dripping poison in her ear at this very minute. How do I stop her?"

"_Well, I could help there_," offered the voice silkily.

"Really?" asked Tom. "How?"

"_Let's say I could slither through the castle, maybe look in on her and warn her off,_" suggested the basilisk. "_She would be too afraid to speak of this again_. _Indeed she would be… petrified._"

"You could do that?" demanded Tom. "Scare her into holding her tongue?"

"_Of course_," hissed the voice. "_But not in my chains_. _The secret entrance must be opened by the Heir of Slytherin for my eyes to reopen and to allow me out of this confined space. I have waited so long to be freed. Let me be your servant; give me my freedom back and undo my bonds._"

"How?" asked Tom, curious. "Open the chamber? Is that all I have to do?"

"_Yes_."

"It's around here somewhere, isn't it?" asked Tom. He had been sure of this information for some time, but if he was honest, had been a little too afraid to look properly.

"_You are the Heir, feel your way there, open up, there's much at stake, open up and release the snake…_" The strange chant of the voice spurred Tom on and he closed his eyes. He felt a pulling sensation, which he followed. Then, he realised, his hand was laid on the door of the girl's bathroom. Feeling extremely weird, he pushed the door open and entered. The pull, which seemed strangely magnetic became stronger and guided him towards the sinks. It drew him to one sink in particular and for some reason, he tried the tap and found that it didn't work. He tried the other one and as he did so, felt an odd groove in the side of it. He ran his finger over the new texture, which felt like it was engraved or embellished onto the surface of the tap. He ducked his head to have a look and saw the small image of a serpent embellished onto the tap. Before he could do anything else, though, he heard voices outside, clearly a group of girls and the door began to open. Panicked at being found in the girl's toilet, he dived into the nearest cubicle and locked the door behind him.

"So, what's going on with you and Lommy?" asked a familiar voice, it was Catherine.

"Why are you asking?" replied a shy sounding voice. Tom clenched his teeth when he realised this was Myrtle.

"You like each other, of course," chuckled Kate's voice. "You're all red!"

"No I'm not!" protested Myrtle in a guilty voice.

"I can't believe we've resorted to the bathroom for privacy," murmured Catherine.

"Only place we're safe from male ears," laughed Kate.

Tom could only grimace at the irony.

"Anyway, forget me, what about you and that… that boy, I can't believe you can trust him," muttered Myrtle.

"I don't know if I do as much," admitted Catherine. "Tom's acting really weirdly at the moment; particularly since I mentioned what you said-" Tom's fists were now balled.

"What?" asked Myrtle, scared. "You can't have done." There was the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Myrtle wait!" called Catherine. "I just wanted his side of the-" the bathroom door was slammed shut. "He told me he didn't do it."

"Why would she invent it? She's seriously scared of him, you saw it in her eyes just then," replied Kate in a sad tone.

"But he told me…" Catherine's conviction sounded like it was waning.

"And do you believe him?" There was a dead silence, then a sigh and finally the sound of footsteps leaving the room and the door swinging shut.

Tom was shaking where he stood, outraged. He had to win her trust back no matter the cost.

He unlocked the cubicle and returned to the sink feeling angry determination.

"_Open up, open up, open up..._" The snake was chanting distantly.

"Open up!" commanded Tom with the most authoritative voice he possessed. The result was as instantaneous as when the broom flew into his hand in that very first flying lesson, years ago.

The whole circle of sinks began to vibrate, then move slowly outwards. Tom stumbled back at the sinks parted from the mirrors, which were magically raised upwards. In a few seconds, he stood before a wide hole, about six feet in diameter and stretching further than the eye could reach, into deep blackness.

"_Ahh, free_," sighed the voice. "_Free to move from this confined space, free_."

"Don't forget what we discussed," Tom said darkly.

"_Of course, young master_," replied the snake. "_I must wait for the right moment, though_."

"Naturally," replied Tom, then he left the girl's bathroom after checking no one was around and hurried down the staircases. While he was walking, however, he saw that huge boy that Catherine seemed fond of, called Hagrid, walking towards one of the dungeons and looking very shifty. It seemed like it was time for a little investigative prefect duty. Silently, Tom followed the boy, like a predator shadowing its prey and was led to one of the unused storerooms in the dungeons. He waited outside and listened.

"There, there Aragog," grunted the voice. "I brought yer some meat from dinner."

"_Thank you, Hagrid_," rasped a very strange, inhuman voice. "_But I need to leave_. _There is something stirring in the castle, I can feel in_."

"You said that yesterday n'all," answered Hagrid in a worried tone. "What is it?"

"_I cannot speak of it young friend, our kind do not speak of it_."

"You're really scared ain't yer?" asked Hagrid. "If yer jus' tell me, I migh' be able to help."

Tom wondered what Hagrid was speaking to. He somehow felt sure that the _something stirring in the castle_ was in fact a basilisk, which the voice was too afraid to name. Tom was on the verge of bursting into the store room, when he decided against it. This information on Hagrid's secret may be useful in the future. Tom retreated quickly and went to the Slytherin common room before he could be seen.

"So do you like her?" demanded Catherine, physically blocking Lommy's path to the boy's dormitories. It was a week after Catherine had upset Myrtle by talking about Tom and they had moved on, with the understanding that Catherine had to find out gossip from Lommy.

"That's my business," he said, turning crimson.

"You do!" exploded Catherine triumphantly. "You actually do!"

"Well, maybe a bit," he admitted, before hurriedly adding. "But you can't tell anyone, promise me!"

"Can't risk making promises I might struggle to keep," teased Catherine.

"You're going to pay for this," warned Lommy jokingly. Then he dived forward, caught Catherine up and put her over his broad shoulder, then rushed over to the chairs to drop her onto it amidst her screams to put her down. The whole common room, Catherine and Lommy included, burst into laughter as Lommy strolled over to the boy's dormitories, flexing his muscles.

"You're seriously like a pair of kids," laughed Kate, sitting next to Catherine who had now straightened up.

"But at least we know he likes Myrtle," whispered Catherine, eyes sparkling. "How sweet. I wonder if he will ask her out soon."

The girls chattered away carefree, unaware of the dark deeds being carried out in the castle at that very moment.

"Ooh," called Olive Hornby cruelly. "I just _love _your glasses, Myrtle, they make you look like a complete dork, really suits you! Did you steal them like you stole your powers, specky?"

"I didn't," sobbed Myrtle, hurrying away from the scene and running into the girl's bathroom. The snake had heard this altercation and now slid its vast body into the entrance of the chamber, which was once again covered by the sinks. The small black hole that was used to drain water away to avoid it overflowing, or at least _would_ have done on a functional sink, provided a peephole for the snake to spy through with both of its great yellow eyes. It heard the girl sobbing uncontrollably and tasted death on the tip of his tongue. His young master was not ready to continue Slytherin's work, but _he _was. The boy had released him, knowing what he was capable of so he was the one to blame for what would happen now.

"_Come out, young girl, come out and play_," hissed the snake. He knew that the girl would not understand, but she _would _hear.

After a few seconds, the girl unlocked her cubicle and threw it open with unnecessary force, a look of determination in her face. She opened her mouth, looked around and her eyes locked onto the basilisk's yellow ones. The result was immediate. The girl froze, her eyes glazed over, then she dropped to the floor; dead.

The basilisk felt a surge of power rush through his long body, as he did every time he killed a muggleborn and became one step closer to fulfilling Salazar Slytherin, his real master's, work. His job done, the snake retreated triumphantly and disappeared down to the deep confines of the castle, unknown to any living eye.

It was several hours before Olive Hornby entered the bathroom, intending to bully Myrtle further, only to let out a horrified scream at the corpse sprawled across the bathroom floor.

The resounding shriek attracted a large number of the Hogwarts students, including Lommy, Llew, Kate and Catherine.

As soon as Lommy realised what had happened, he rushed into the bathroom, and fell beside the girl's body. He held her protectively as his three friends approached and seemed to be shaking all over.

"She can't be gone," he whispered. "I was going to ask her, tonight, I was…"

"Lommy," whispered Catherine sadly wrapping her arms around him. A few teachers entered the bathroom and saw the girl. Their horror was apparent, but they pulled Lommy away from her, which caused him to immediately protest, but Catherine also held onto him. As they took the body away a voice spoke.

"I would have said yes," whispered Myrtle's voice from behind them. Lommy spun around and saw the ghost hovering slightly above him. He raised his hand to her and she reached out to his. "I could stay," she whispered, already fading. Their hands stopped an inch apart.

"No," whispered Lommy, painfully. "You have to let go, you have to go on."

"I'll miss you," she whispered, almost completely gone. "Thank you for my happiest moments." Then she disappeared.

The students and teachers were silent. Catherine took Lommy's hand and squeezed it, to show she was there for him and after a time, he squeezed hers too. She would help him get through this.

Tom was outside the crowd but saw the body go past on a stretcher. He gasped and felt his insides twist. The snake had promised to scare her, he said nothing about… about.

Furious, he headed to the special room he had found, with showed him what he asked for and he requested a chance to speak with the snake. When he entered the room was black and he called for it angrily.

"_How are you speaking to me?_" asked the snake, semi-bewildered. "_It is like you are in my head_." Tom noted that it felt the same for him: what a strange room this was.

"Do you really think that is my top priority?" he demanded furiously. "You murdered her!"

"_No, we murdered her_," corrected the snake.

"What? This was you not me!"

"_Actually, I am your weapon, we are linked and a weapon can do no harm if it is not used. You released me, knowing what my purpose was_."

"You tricked me, didn't you?" Tom demanded.

"_You needed reminding of Slytherin's work_," hissed the voice.

"And what about _my _work?"

"_Well, you can make one of your horcruxes now, your soul has split._"

"It wasn't me that killed her!"

"_But her blood is still on your hands. You need to forget this Catherine who distracts you and concentrate on what is important._"

"NO!" he bellowed, bursting from the room in anger and hurrying away. He was shaking with pure horror. As he walked down the staircase, he met Dumbledore, who pierced him with a hard stare. Did he know?

He had to cover his tracks, he couldn't be linked to the death, it wasn't even his fault… but how?

Then it came to him: Hagrid's secret creature.

* * *

><p><em>Well, it looks like things are starting to take a different path. In this scenario, Myrtle has "gone on", but will that stop Lord Voldemort?<em>

_Keep reading to find out. Reviews are much appreciated! =)_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 17**

"He's finding it really difficult," murmured Catherine, sat on her four poster bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. "I don't know what to do to help him."

Kate sighed heavily and she pulled her covers around her upright body.

"It's going to be difficult for him, really difficult," Kate mumbled, shivering and pulling the covers around herself tightly. It was Saturday morning and the cold weather, despite it technically being summer had discouraged the two girls to get out of their warm beds.

"Maybe we should go down to the common room," suggested Catherine. "We can sit by the fire and Lommy will be at Quidditch practise anyway. He won't overhear."

"At least he has something to keep him busy." Kate threw the covers from herself and began to change as fast as possible.

"Maybe, but Minerva said he's just not himself," replied Catherine, beginning to change as well. "She's practically been running the last few practises. They're worried about him."

"Unsurprising, really," she replied.

Not long later, they were sat in the common room by a roaring fire and feeling a good deal warmer.

"Oh no," Catherine said suddenly. "I've got an essay for Slughorn to do, which I totally forgot about. I'm going to have to go to the library."

"What that one about the components of poison? Oh me too!" replied Catherine. "Right, come on, let's get it over with."

However, as the girls arrived in the library, something happened. On the fifth floor, the girls took a detour to the bathroom and while Catherine was sorting her hair in the mirror, she suddenly stiffened and keeled over.

"CATHERINE!" cried Kate in horror. She ran over to her friend who looked as though she had been placed under the body bind curse, except for her eyes, which were also frozen… in horror. "CATHERINE!" Kate shook her desperately, noting how stiff she was. "HELP! Someone help!"

The door burst open and in ran Hagrid.

"Wha's matter?" he asked wildly, looking around and spotting Catherine. "What 'appened?"

"I don't know, I don't know," cried Kate. "She needs help; we need to get her to the hospital wing."

"Alrigh', I'll carry 'er," he blustered, scooping Catherine up in his arms. "C'mon then."

They hurried down to the hospital wing and showed her to a horror struck Madam Pomfrey.

"What happened?" demanded Madam Pomfrey. "Oh my dear, poor girl, what happened?"

Kate, now tearful, recounted the story shakily as Hagrid looked at Catherine with horror.

"She has been petrified," Madam Pomfrey decided after an examination. "She will need mandrake juice. I have to inform the headmaster at once. I think it may have been what killed that poor girl, Myrtle."

"Is Catherine going to…"

"No," cut in the matron. "We can cure her, she will be okay. Here take this, it's for the shock." She handed her a piece of chocolate. "I want you to go straight back to your common room together… there's no point in staying here," she added as the two Gryffindors began to protest, "she will be perfectly safe and you need to calm down."

"Yeh, c'mon Kate," agreed Hagrid, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We'll come back later an' check on 'er."

"I'm sorry, but no more visits for Catherine until I see fit. We have to ensure the safety of your friend."

After some persuasion, Kate allowed herself to be guided out of the hospital wing but as they walked across the entrance hall, they crossed paths with Lommy and she burst into tears.

"What's happened?" he asked, surprised. Hagrid explained the situation and Lommy's expression turned from surprise to horror.

"I've got to go and see her," he decided.

"There's no point, she doesn't even know you're there," sighed Kate, who had composed herself. "Plus, Madam Pomfrey isn't going to accept visitors."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Something to do with her safety," shrugged Kate, defeated. "So we need to respect that. Poor Catherine."

"Why?" asked a voice from behind them.

"Get stuffed, Riddle," spat Lommy.

"What is wrong with Catherine?" asked Tom, ignoring Lommy and looking straight at Kate.

"She's been petrified," Kate answered, in a strained voice.

"What do you mean? Scared? Like a phobia?"

"No I mean she's keeled over, stiff as a board and according to Madam Pomfrey, petrified. She's not allowed visitors, so we're out of our minds, because it sounds like she might be in danger from whoever or whatever did it to her. Not that I know who or what it could have been because I was with her at the time and saw nothing-" Her voice broke along with her composure and she relapsed into sobs.

"Now look what you've done," growled Lommy. "Get away you-" but Tom was already heading away, heading straight to the hospital wing. He would see Catherine, whether visitors were allowed or not.

After spending thirty minutes knocking on the door, Madam Pomfrey finally let him in and he rushed to Catherine's side.

"What did this?" asked Tom, looking over Catherine's rigid form.

"Something dreadful," whispered the matron. "I know you spend a lot of time with her; the Gryffindor and Slytherin friendship of Hogwarts – I know it's hard."

"Don't you have any idea how this happened?" asked Tom.

"All I know is that she collapsed in the girl's bathroom on the fifth floor while with her friend. It seems that… larger… boy was walking past and carried her here."

"Hagrid? Hagrid was outside the girl's bathroom when Catherine collapsed?"

"He must have been close," answered the matron, unconcerned with this. Tom, however, realised that it could work to his advantage.

"Tom," said a voice from the hospital wing door. It was a voice he despised.

"Professor," nodded Tom, meeting the blue gaze of Dumbledore.

"The headmaster would like to see you, in regards to the summer holidays," Dumbledore informed him.

"Now?" he asked, edgily.

"I believe so," replied Dumbledore gravely. Tom looked back at Catherine, a sadness in his eyes.

"I'll be back, Catherine," he promised, before getting up. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey. Professor," he added curtly and he left the room.

Tom knew his meeting was due to a request he had made for stopping at Hogwarts over the summer. He was hoping the headmaster would agree and spare him another summer at the orphanage.

Unfortunately, it was not so. Dippet informed him that special arrangements would have been made if it wasn't for the death of Myrtle. The irony made him feel ill.

Worse still, there was talk about the school being closed unless the culprit was caught. As he left the headmaster's office, he was decided. Today was the day.

Tom hurried down into the dungeons and hid inside one of the classrooms, quiet and patient. There was a small crack in the door, which he peered through, waiting and listening intently. After a long time, he heard shuffling footsteps coming down the corridor and smiled to himself. The better part of him had been frozen, just like Catherine and now he was like a cold hunter.

He heard the footsteps pass his hiding place and saw the large figure obscure the dim light through the crack in the door. Just another minute…

Tom heard the click of something being opened and then gruff voice of Hagrid, speaking softly to something. Now was the time. Tom slipped out of his hiding place, standing right behind the tall figure.

"Good evening, Rubeus," Tom said calmly, his wand raised. Hagrid's shock was clear to see and he tried to shield whatever was behind him. "Stand aside, I have no choice but to turn you in. That thing killed a girl and I cannot allow the school to be closed."

"He din't do nothin'," Hagrid argued.

Tom directed a spell at the huge chest stood behind the boy, causing it to burst open. Out fell, a hairy, eight-legged beast, which Tom recognised to be a young acromantula.

"Arania Exumai!" shouted Tom, but he missed the spider, which scuttled away.

"Aragog!" yelled Hagrid.

"It's over Rubeus," Tom told him now breathing heavier, his wand pointed directly at the boy and a wild gleam in his eye. "This way."

Tom marched the protesting boy all the way to the head master's office, his wand poised. They entered the office and Dippet looked around in astonishment

"I have found the one responsible," he announced, pocketing his wand. "I found him, with a creature, an acromantula. He had it hidden."

"I din't do it!" shouted Hagrid. "I swear-"

The headmaster looked stunned but he raised a hand for Hagrid to stop talking.

"Go on, Tom," he said, seriously

"The attack on Catherine, do you know about that?" asked Tom.

"I have spoken to Madam Pomfrey, yes," sighed the headmaster.

"Hagrid was outside the girl's bathroom when it happened," Tom said darkly.

"It's just a coincidence!" Hagrid argued desperately.

"Maybe it was unintentional, but nonetheless, he harboured a monster within the castle," Tom said clearly and calmly. "When I discovered the creature, I was duty bound to inform you, sir."

"You have done right, Tom," nodded Dippet. Then his eyes snapped back to Hagrid and narrowed. "This is not the first time, Rubeus. You have landed yourself in trouble with magical creatures before now; not two weeks ago you were caught fighting a troll. However, this time is different. This time a girl died."

"It wasn't 'im, it wasn't me," Hagrid wailed.

"Then who? What? I'm sorry Rubeus, but you are confessing to have hidden an acromantula in the castle, despite the danger it posed to fellow students?"

"I-" stuttered Hagrid. "I… yes sir, but he din't hurt anyone." Dippet eyed Hagrid for a long time.

"I can see that you did not intend for this to happen," he finally said. "But nevertheless, you placed our school in danger and it ended in the death of a student. I have no choice but to expel you."

"NO! You can't, you can't. It wasn't me! Please!" begged Hagrid.

"I will have to inform the governors and the Ministry," continued Dippet gravely. At this point, Dumbledore entered the room, staring around and taking in the scene.

"Headmaster?" was all Dumbledore said.

"Hagrid has been expelled, he is responsible for the attacks," said Professor Dippet, looking particularly frail.

"No I never," sobbed Hagrid. "Professor you gotta believe me."

"Tom found him with the creature," added Dippet and Dumbledore looked immediately at Tom. His mistrust was clear.

"Professor, would I be able to talk to you in private?" Dumbledore said quietly.

"My mind is made up, Albus," warned the headmaster.

"Even so."

"Hagrid, please wait outside for myself and Professor Dumbledore to speak." Hagrid trudged out of the room, looking thoroughly defeated. "Tom."

"Yes sir," responded Tom. Dippet indicated for him to approach, then he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You will receive a special award of services to the school for what you have done, however I must ask you not to speak of this again, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course sir, thank you sir," replied Tom smoothly, noting the distaste on Dumbledore's face.

"No Tom, thank you," Dippet said. "Now, I must ask you to leave, please return to your common room."

"Yes sir," Tom nodded, then he left the office and walked past the drooping figure of Hagrid, whose face was crumpled in pure misery. Tom suddenly felt a twinge, which he tried to suppress as he walked past. However, the further away he walked, the worse he felt and once he had placed a good distance between himself at the miserable boy, the feeling began to burn into anger.

The basilisk was to blame. It was obvious to him, now, that the basilisk has attacked Catherine. The snake had once used the term _petrified_ when insisting he could stop Myrtle and this twisted the anger into fury. How dare it do this to Catherine!

He marched to the girl's bathroom on the second floor and opened the chamber of secrets. He stared into the dark hole, breathing heavily and clutching his wand. He closed his eyes and jumped. Tom hurtled down what was effectively a slide, keeping his eyes tightly closed and listening for the snake.

"_Master_," cooed the voice, as the slide levelled out and Tom landed on uneven flooring.

"Close your eyes," commanded Tom darkly. He felt the power emanate from him and knew his words would be honoured. Tom opened his own eyes and realised he was stood on bones. Slightly disgusted, he looked up and saw the great snake, its eyes closed. It was enormous and each of its teeth were like daggers. "How dare you act without orders?"

"_She was holding you back,_" it whispered.

"That is for me to decide," he thundered. "ME! You are finished! CRUCIO!"

The snake coiled and uncoiled, writhing in agony.

"_Mercy_!"

"Did you show them mercy?" he asked, moving his wand away from the snake. "Well?" He slashed his wand through the air, with a severing charm, which sliced the snake in several places along its vast body.

"_Go on, finish it in cold blood. Split your soul._"

"I thought you said I already had," smiled Riddle, raising his wand again. "Goodbye. Since I am getting a reward, I may as well rid the castle of the monster."

"_Forever weighing on your conscience, the boy you framed_."

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he bellowed and the explosion of green light illuminated the bone covered cavern and the great head of the snake smashed to the floor. It was dead.

Tom suddenly felt himself swaying on the spot. He felt overwhelmed with the feeling that had surged through him as he killed the creature, it had not merely been anger, but burning, boiling hatred.

After a short while, it occurred to him that he didn't know how to get out of the chamber and he suddenly began to panic. He ran over to the long pipe he had slid down and urgently tried to climb back up it, only to find himself slipping back into the chamber. His attempts became wilder and more desperate, until he slid down for a final time and collapsed onto his knees.

"Come on, think," he told himself. "Think."

The answer was so simple, he couldn't believe it had taken so long.

"Accio Hogwarts broomstick!" he shouted; his wand raised. The summoning charm.

After a slightly painful wait, an old broom came shooting down the pipe and halted right next to Tom. He climbed on gratefully and kicked off from the ground. The upwards journey felt like true freedom and he left the chamber behind, with no intention of returning.

Once safely back in the bathroom, the chamber sealed itself and Tom left hurriedly. He ditched the broom in the nearest store cupboard and practically ran back to the Slytherin common room. He spoke to no one that night. He just lay in his bed and thought.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 18**

"I am more than confident that Hagrid did not harm Myrtle or Catherine," Dumbledore insisted. "The two girls were his friends."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it, but my hands are tied, Albus," the headmaster groaned.

"The boy lost his father not long since, has he not suffered enough?" asked Dumbledore.

"Albus!" Dippet was becoming frustrated, causing his withered hands to tremble. "My decision if final. He has been expelled and that concludes the matter. Even if by some strange coincidence, it was a different creature that killed the poor girl, Hagrid has been fraternising with monsters for too long and this is the final straw." He took a deep breath. "I do feel for the boy, losing his father was tough and I accept that you have been personally supportive towards him; I suppose you feel responsible for him. However, I know you can see the difficulty of this situation." Dippet walked towards his fireplace and grasped a handful of floo powder from a delicate china pot on the mantelpiece. "I must inform the Ministry." The headmaster threw the powder into the fire saying "The Minister's office" and stuck his head into the now emerald flames.

Dumbledore watched him intently, while stroking his auburn beard and after a few minutes, Dippet withdrew his head. "The Minister is on his way, along with a representative from the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Magical Law Enforcement Sqaud and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." No sooner than he had spoken, the fire flared and four wizards appeared one by one, led by a tired looking teachers recognised him to be the Minister of Magic.

"Bring the boy in," the Minister said gravely, his greying hair seeming to go even lighter with the stress. Dumbledore silently fetched Hagrid, whose eyes were pink and puffy. He looked broken. The Minister glanced towards one of the other men, who stepped forward and approached Hagrid.

"I am head of the Improper Use of Magic Office," he told Hagrid sternly. "You have been expelled from Hogwarts for keeping a dangerous creature hidden in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This irresponsible behaviour lead to the death of an innocent girl and as an underage wizard, you are therefore obliged to hand over your wand. It will be destroyed."

"No! No yer can't…please?" begged Hagrid desperately. "It wasn' me!"

"You are also," continued the wizard mercilessly, "required to attend a hearing in front of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to decide if any further action is needed."

"No," Hagrid sobbed, his huge mass shaking with grief. "I'm sorry dad, I'm so, so sorry," he whimpered.

"Will that really be necessary?" asked Dumbledore evenly. "I do not believe Rubeus was responsible for these attacks and I do not see that he poses a threat to his friends. Incidentally Minister, the only people to be attacked were _known_ to be his friends. Tell me, does this look like a boy who would attack the people who had been there for him, through the toughest time in his life?"

"If it was not his creature, then what was it?" asked Dippet. "No, Hagrid is not responsible enough and has an unnerving desire to spend time with dangerous beasts."

"I think, perhaps," spoke up a different wizard. "Our department would not see fit to take this case further. Where is the creature now?" he was looking at Hagrid, with a far kinder expression. Hagrid guessed he was from the Magical Creature department.

"Gone," he sobbed. "He ran away. He din't hurt anyone."

"The hearing may be fruitless, but unfortunately, I agree that this boy needs a watchful eye," said the wizard. "It is not wise to deal with such creatures; accidents happen. I am in no doubt that this was an accident, of course and I believe the council would see it this way as well. I must go, good evening gentleman." The wizard left through the flames and the fourth wizard stepped forward.

"Your wand, please," he demanded, hand outstretched. Hagrid looked at Dumbledore for support, but the twinkle seemed to have left his eyes. Hagrid realised that this was it. It was over for him. He had a mad urge to run away, become a fugitive and live in the wild with all the creatures that so dearly fascinated him. He knew the fantasy was ridiculous.

Slowly and unwillingly, he pulled out the long, thin, wooden stick that he had bought in Diagon Alley, which had served him faithfully and the wizard snatched it from his hands. "You are hereby banned from performing, jinxes, spells, charms and curses and receiving any further education in the magical curriculum. Any breach of these rules will result in a disciplinary hearing in front of the Magical Law Enforcement squad, which can lead to a fine, banishment and/or a prison sentence in Azkaban."

The wizard took the wand in both of his hands and began to bend it. All the wizards watched silently, so that the crack that announced it had broken, reverberated around the room. Hagrid fell to his knees and howled.

"Our business here is done," sighed the Minister. "Good evening to you all." The wizard with the broken wand tossed the pieces aside and exited through the fire first, closely followed by the other two men.

"Where can I live?" sobbed Hagrid, crawling over to his broken wand, scooping up the fragments and cradling them in his arms. "What can I do? Me ol' dad would be so ashamed." Dumbledore turned to Dippet.

"He has nowhere to go," he said sadly. "Let him stay."

"And do what?" asked the headmaster, looking and the boy with some regret. "He cannot do magic."

"He can be the gamekeeper," suggested Dumbledore.

"I don't know. What if he goes off and finds more dark creatures? What about the friction between himself and Tom Riddle?" asked Dippet. "It may be more trouble than-"

"I will keep a personal eye on him," Dumbledore argued. "He has learnt his lesson."

"But Albus… making him watch his classmates as they progress? It almost seems cruel…"

"Please headmaster," implored Dumbledore. "He has lost enough, don't take away his home too."

Dippet stood in silence for a moment, watching Hagrid as he finally regained control of himself.

"Hagrid, would you like to stay at Hogwarts as gamekeeper?" asked Dippet with some trepidation.

"Yes!" answered Hagrid. "I don't want ter leave Hogwarts, it's me home."

"You wouldn't break the rules or get involved with dangerous creatures?"

"Of course not!"

"I have my reservations about this," admitted the headmaster. "But under the circumstances… I believe you did not intend the outcome. I will allow you to remain as gamekeeper."

"Thank yer," sobbed Hagrid. "Thanks fer not makin' me leave me home."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Well I had better sort you out with some personal accommodation in the grounds, if that is admissible to you, Professor."

"You might as well, Albus," groaned Dippet, looking old and tired. He walked around his desk and sank into his chair. "I hear that there are some nearly matured mandrakes, so Catherine will be back to her old self in no time. It is a pity that…" Then he stopped himself from commenting on Myrtle. Hagrid had been through enough.

Professor Dumbledore led Hagrid into the dark, silent grounds, walking at a swift pace until he reached the edge of the forest.

"Professor-?" Hagrid began, but Dumbledore raised his hand to silence him. He then lifted his other hand, which gripped his wand – Hagrid tried to suppress the envy he felt as he looked at the untarnished instrument – and swished it expertly through the air.

The ground shook and began to rise, as though a giant bubble was being blown from beneath the terrain. A large dome of earth grew past their heads and then burst, throwing dirt into the air, which swirled into a tornado that sped into the forest and left behind a huge wooden hut. The dirt tornado whirled back into view and arranged itself beside the cabin, to make a patch of land, perfect for gardening.

Hagrid was so amazed that he temporarily forgot about his expulsion. All became silent again.

"Go on," gestured Dumbledore. "It is yours, after all."

"Mine? Fer real?" asked an awed Rubeus.

"All yours."

Catherine was completely thrown. One minute she was looking at the reflection of those awful yellow eyes and now she was met by the dark, concerned gaze of Tom Riddle.

"It worked!" he exclaimed with excitement.

"Of course it worked," replied the voice of Madam Pomfrey. "It's mandrake juice!"

"Worked? Mandrake juice? What is going-?" then she felt herself wrapped in Tom's arms and froze in surprise. He let go pretty quickly, but a look of relief remained his most prominent emotion.

"Catherine, you were petrified," he explained. "It is a condition in which a person becomes, effectively, frozen in time and it is cured by mandrake juice."

"But how did I become… petrified?" Tom bit his lip.

"It's a delicate subject," warned Tom, frowning slightly. "Maybe we should wait until you are better."

"I feel fine," protested Catherine, leaping out of bed, much to the visible distress of the matron. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey, but I am well and I promise to come straight back if I feel ill."

"I would much rather you-" she began, but Catherine had already begun walking out of the hospital wing, closely followed by Tom.

"What happened?" she asked, as they got into the grounds. The sun glowed gently from above. "All I remember is seeing two _dreadful_ eyes, bright yellow, then I was in the hospital wing."

"Are you sure?" he probed. A look had flashed across his eyes, but currently his expression held only innocent curiosity. "Kate seems to think you hit your head when the thing petrified you and so you may be confused."

"I'm sure I saw them," Catherine answered, her conviction fading. Hit her head? It didn't feel sore. "What is _that_?" she said abruptly, looking over at the hut on the edge of the forest.

"It is where that _oaf_ is staying," Tom replied darkly. "Hagrid," he clarified.

"What? Hagrid? Why?" she asked, surprised, for once not scolding him for mistreating her friend.

"Because he is expelled for associating with a dangerous monster that killed Myrtle and petrified you," he said in a dead voice. "Dumbledore let him stay on as gamekeeper, but his wand was snapped."

"Hagrid did this?" she demanded in horror. "But he wouldn't!"

"I caught him red handed, found him with the monster locked away in the dungeons." Tom's expression was almost apologetic. "There is no doubt about it, I'm afraid."

"I need to see him," Catherine decided. "He can't have, you must have made a mistake."

"No way are you going there!" Tom exploded. "What if he tries to finish what he started?"

"Come with me then," she frowned, already sprinting towards the cabin.

"Catherine, NO!" yelled Tom, hot on her heels. It was too late, though. Hagrid was leaving his hut and caught sight of Catherine. His face twisted with conflicting emotions.

"I swear it wasn' me," he insisted before she could speak. "You're me friend, I'd never 'arm yer!" His face was filled with such sincerity that Catherine believed him.

"I just needed to hear you say that," she sighed, just as Tom caught up. Hagrid's whole demeanour changed and his face contorted.

"YOU!" he bellowed in outrage. "YOU GOT ME EXPELLED FER NUTHIN'!"

He took a lunge at Tom but Catherine pushed him out of the way, causing Hagrid eyes to widen in horror as he fell towards the girl. She was dragged aside just in time by Tom's quick reflexes and Hagrid hit the floor with a smack.

"You great, blithering moron," growled Tom. "You nearly hurt her AGAIN!" He seized Catherine's arm and began pulling her. "Come on we're going."

She only allowed Tom to lead her from the scene, because she was in shock. In that one moment, Hagrid had looked dangerous… murderous.

When they got back to the castle, she was trembling and Tom looked at her in concern.

"It's okay," he promised. "No one is going to hurt you, ever."

That night, Tom was thinking about what the basilisk had said before he killed it. It told him that finishing it would split his soul. Had he split his soul? He looked at the diary Catherine had given him and imagined concealing a part of himself within it. No one could touch him if he had a horcrux.

He knew the method he must use, the incantation he must utter, the thoughts he must harbour. He could make the horcrux right now. Besides, if the snake had lied and his soul had not split, it wouldn't work anyway.

First, he pointed to the dormitory door with his ward, locked it and spoke a charm that would prevent people outside the door from hearing what he was doing. Then, after taking a deep breath, he performed the magic and minutes later held a newly formed horcrux in his hand.

The diary seemed to pulsate slightly and he could _feel_ the separate part of himself inside it. Smiling in triumph, he placed it beneath his bed and lifted the spells on the doorway.

Avery walked through the door and looked at him. His eyes widened in surprise and fear. Something about the changed Tom, or _Voldemort_ as he meant to call him, scared him deeply, but he couldn't decide what it was.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hello readers! Things aren't as black and white as they seem. There are twists on the way and some hope for Tom yet… Even if it is the thinnest sliver of hope known to wizardkind ;)<strong>_

_**Please keep reading to find out more and I will update as soon as I can.**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 19**

Tom felt empowered. Whatever that horcrux did to him, seemed to create fear in the eyes that met his gaze. His Knights were particularly loyal recently and showed increased signs of being afraid of him. He had never felt so alive and it created a new arrogance in his angular features. He was particularly looking forward to seeing Catherine, with his newly amplified confidence, expecting to impress her and scare away his competition. He smirked at that thought. Competition? Who could compete with him?

As he entered the Great Hall, he saw Catherine standing up to leave. He waited by the door for her to approach and was disgruntled to see Lommy at her heel.

"Hello Catherine," he said calmly as she approached. She looked up at him with a smile that slowly faded on eye contact. Switch stopped in his tracks and took in Tom's appearance, his eyes widening. "If you don't mind Lombard, I would like to speak to Catherine."

"No way am I leaving her with-" he began to protest but Tom cut across him.

"Leave!" he ordered. Catherine looked at Tom with startled eyes and then met Lommy's gaze. She looked… afraid. Tom gritted his teeth, knowing it would be physically painful to say the following word. "Please?"

Catherine visibly relaxed and nodded to Switch, assuring him he could depart. Lombard looked at Tom with deep mistrust, but still walked away.

"How are you?" Tom asked conversationally.

"What happened to you?" She had blatantly ignored the question.

"Happened?" He feigned confusion.

"You're different," she told him simply, eyeing him.

"Am I?" Tom chuckled darkly, but stopped when he caught the alarmed look on Catherine's face. He thought up an excuse. "I've not been sleeping properly. I was worried Hagrid's creature would try to harm you again. I'm tired, that's all."

"Tired?" she repeated, unsure. "Well, you do look a little warn out."

Tom smiled slightly. In all fairness, he had just ripped a piece of soul from his body, which was bound to take it out of him; pun aside.

"I'll be fine," he told her silkily. "It just brought to my attention that we were leaving Hogwarts for the summer, next week. I will not be there to protect you." The irony was that in the light of current circumstances, it was him she _really _needed protection from.

"Oh, Tom," she sighed, shaking her head. Even in his not-himself state, Catherine had to admit to herself that she still found him attractive. His eyes, his voice, his face, his mouth…

She looked away, suddenly reddening at these thoughts. "I don't need protecting. I will be with the Switchs. I'm safe there."

"How can you be sure?" he snapped, the thought of Lommy hitting a nerve. "Your parents lived right next to them and _they_ weren't kept very safe." Had he really just said that? Both of their eyes widened in shock at his words.

"I can't believe you just…" Catherine was speechless and looked extremely hurt. "Leave me alone." She stalked away, the shock still in her eyes.

"Catherine, wait!" he called. She stopped, but didn't turn. He wasn't sure what to say. "I… I don't know why I said that. I can't believe I said it. I'm so sorry Catherine, I just worry about you. I think about you all the time and the thought of you being hurt…"

"Provided it's not you hurting me, you mean?" she challenged, looking around. Fury flashed in her eyes.

"How can I apologise enough?" he asked, his eyes pleading. The Entrance Hall, where they now stood, was deserted. "Tell me, I'll do it. I'm sorry!"

"It wasn't their fault," she told him, angrily. "They never wanted my parents to-" her voice broke.

"I know," he whispered, closing the space between them. "I'm sorry." He placed a hand on her face and stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. He placed the other hand in the same place on her other cheek. "Please forgive me."

Her breath caught in her throat at this sudden closeness. In this moment, he looked more like his normal self.

"I-" she tried to speak, but couldn't quite form the connection between her brain and mouth.

"Shh," he soothed. "It's okay." He leaned forwards and brushed his lips against hers and then pulled back suddenly, surprised at his actions. The creature hissed in disgust that he would touch a mudblood in such a way. _Muggleborn_, he thought to the creature angrily, but he quickly let go and stepped back. Catherine was still frozen in shock. "Am I forgiven?" he asked once he had recovered himself. His expression suddenly seemed masked, which toyed with Catherine's emotions further. She nodded.

Tom didn't try anything like that again for the final week at school and whenever Catherine saw him, it was with a little more distance than usual and polite conversation. They bad farewell for the summer on Platform Nine and Three Quarters and only kept in brief contact via Morosaether.

During the final week, the creature took a greater hold of Tom, causing him to rename the Knights as Death Eaters and of course no one dared to argue with him. What Lord Voldemort wanted, Lord Voldemort got. He demonstrated no fear in using an unforgiveable curse, crucio and the Death Eaters quickly learnt that if they disobeyed, they would be punished. In this, Tom and his gang terrorised the school more than normal that week and students began to fear the sinister Slytherin clique.

The creature in Tom enjoyed feeding its hunger for power. It was beginning to crave another horcrux, but the objects that were to conceal his soul had to be special and of great value. The diary had been a gift from Catherine and even though the creature didn't agree, this held great sentimental value for Tom. This summer, he decided, he would visit the Gaunt's, whose name had been printed in his diary, after he discovered it over a year ago. He would use this part of his family to track down his filthy muggle father and make him pay.

Two weeks after the end of the Hogwarts school year, Tom Riddle was stood outside a small shack, just on the outskirts of Little Hangleton. He was positive that it was the location he had been searching for, mainly due to the dead snake nailed to the door. How very Slytherin.

He knocked on the door, but figured he may as well enter the house. The door creaked and the first thing he noted was the stench of alcohol. Tom looked around slowly until his eyes fell on the clearly drunk man, slumped in an armchair. The man must have heard him enter because he looked around. Suddenly, their eyes met, recognition flashed through the man's and he staggered angrily to his feet.

"YOU!" he shrieked, taking Tom by surprise as he lunged forward, holding his wand and a blunt knife. Due to his state, the man's aim was poor and he missed Tom by a good few feet. _Speak in parselmouth_, the creature in his head instructed. He did and the man seemed genuinely shocked to hear the words uttered from his mouth.

"_I thought you were someone else_," hissed the man in snake language. "_That muggle. I should have realised he would be older, now. You are the spitting image of him. Stole my sister's heart, that muggle._"

"_Which muggle_?" asked Tom, feeling excitement. He was pretty sure he could guess who the muggle was.

"_The one who lives in that big house in Little Hangleton_." The man even managed to sound drunk when speaking in snake tongue. "_Filth_."

"_Are you Marvolo_?" Tom asked, truly curious as to whether this was his grandfather.

"_I'm his son, Morfin_," the man told him. "_He died years ago_."

So he was Tom's uncle. He couldn't help but feel disappointment and even a little disgust that this was where he came from. He watched the man brush hair out of his eyes and caught sight of a ring on his finger. Something about the object held his attention and he found himself wondering whether it would be a suitable horcrux. Well, that muggle in the big house would play a very important part in _that_ case. Morfin suddenly looked agitated.

"_That muggle came back though, left my sister," _he growled. "_Serves her right for marrying filth. He robbed us, took Slytherin's locket. My sister dishonoured our family and who are you to start asking questions?_"

The angry Morfin made the mistake of looking away from Tom as he spoke and dropped his wand by his side. With one swift movement, Tom swiped the wand from his clutches and then stupefied his uncle wordlessly. So, his mother had run away with the muggle, who deserted her, leaving her with a child she could not take care of; leaving her to die. He left the shack at once and headed into Little Hangleton, expecting his father's house to be obvious at first sight.

It most certainly was, as it was the only large house in the area and he hurried towards it, still clutching his uncle's grimy wand. He burst into the house and heard a woman's voice.

"What was that?" she sounded alarmed. His grandmother? He headed straight for the voice, blood pumping in his ears and found himself running into the drawing room. He saw three shocked faces staring back at him and smiled a little ruefully. One look at the youngest man confirmed that is was definitely his father; they looked so alike.

"Hello dad," Tom smiled pleasantly. "I see you weren't expecting me."

"Dad?" repeated Tom Riddle Senior.

"Well, you did desert my pregnant mother," he said conversationally, enjoying the horror on his grandparents' faces. "So you should have realised it would only be a matter of time before I came and found you." He carefully laid threat into the final five words. He raised the wand.

"You are like her," his father exclaimed in horror, staring at the implement.

"Well," shrugged Tom. "Most people seem to think it's _you _I'm like. Same face, same name. Even my uncle thought I was you and tried to throttle me. Still... I can save him job."

"No," whispered the man, a plea in his eyes. Tom aimed and there was a bright flash.

Back at the shack, Tom was shaking slightly, as he placed the wand beside his stupefied uncle. He performed a memory jinx on the man and was about to leave, when he caught sight of the ring again. He slipped it from Morfin's dirty finger and placed it into his pocket. He arrived back at the orphanage late that night and hurried to his bedroom. No one disturbed him because they knew better than to do so. He lay in his bed and thought.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 20**

_You're weak_, the creature growled inside his head, _weak_. He wanted to disagree with the voice, but found that he simply couldn't. He had pointed the wand at his father, hoping to get his revenge, when Catherine's face had burst into his mind. The memory was of when she found out her parents were dead and her expression was filled with shock, horror and pain at being orphaned. Something about the memory let Tom take control over the creature and he merely stupefied his father and grandparents, erasing any recollection of his visit from their minds. Shaken by the powerful emotion created by Catherine, despite her not being present, he returned to his uncle's house.

The ring still intrigued him and so he still took it, but the creature began to taunt him about it being no use to a coward.

After some time, the voice made him angry and many times he verbally lashed out at the annoying brats in the orphanage. He had another encounter with his childhood serpent acquaintance and wondered vaguely how long grass snakes actually lived for. He told the snake he wasn't interested in talking to it.

"And anyway," he told the snake furiously. "I know we said we wouldn't mention it, but the first time we met, you bit me and I haven't quite forgiven you for that. So I suggest you slither away quickly before I actually lose it." This was quite true; the snake had indeed bitten him on their first encounter, but after the discovery of his ability to talk with the creature, he soon moved on from this. However, right now, his foul mood was taking fuel from anything and everything that had ever annoyed him, sinking into one pit of rage.

He even stopped writing to Catherine, feeling like his moment of weakness was somehow her fault. He carried this anger through the entire holidays and was pleased that his return to Hogwarts would bring a whole host of students whom he could punish magically for his fury. Perhaps mistreating many would counteract not killing one.

On the Hogwarts Express, Catherine decided to go looking for Tom, feeling a little hurt that he hadn't been in contact for most of the summer. Lommy was reluctant to let her go and find him, but he knew trying to dissuade her was fruitless. She wandered down the compartments until she came across a Slytherin filled one, with all the people she knew to be his admirers. Sure enough, he was sat amongst them and so she tapped on the glass causing everyone to glance around.

"Oh look it's the mudblood," she distinctly heard Olive Hornby say but Catherine tried not to let it bother her.

"I'll handle this," Tom smirked arrogantly and he slid open the compartment door. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to see… how you… are," she muttered, blushing furiously at the low laughter of the Slytherins. Tom's expression immediately changed and he hastily turned back to the others.

"Excuse us for a moment," he told them, wiping the smirks of their faces.

"But-" Lestrange began to argue, however he was immediately silenced by the look Tom gave him; although Catherine was only able to see the back of his head. Tom left the compartment and walked a few paces away with Catherine.

"Have I done something to upset you?" she asked, immediately worried. Tom practically melted at the innocence that still lingered in her eyes and had been present from their very first meeting. Blameless Catherine believing it to be her fault.

"No," he answered. "I just had a lot on my mind."

"Like?" she asked, concerned.

"I'd rather not go into it," he admitted, trying to spare her feelings with his tone. All the same she still looked hurt. That look in her eyes pained him and he swore to himself that whatever dark deeds he got himself into, she was to be kept safe from them and if needs be, him. She was too pure and good to be mixed up in all of this.

"You never let me in, do you?" she sighed. "Deliberately that is. I only get to really know you in those few moments you lose control." She was remembering that outburst in the first year, when he had admitted his loneliness. He realised what she said was true.

"It's because I don't really believe you would like what you saw there," he murmured sadly.

"How very you, speaking in riddles," she said lightly. She wasn't going to push the subject, despite the fact it was bothering her. With a little luck he would made another mistake in the near future and she would learn more about him. She noted that it probably wasn't a very healthy friendship in that light.

"Why do you want anything to do with me?" asked Tom, uncomprehending.

"You're my friend," she shrugged. "Not only that, but my _first_ friend."

"You are mine, also," Tom said with realisation. He also noted how possessive his phrase had been, yet he liked the way it sounded. _You are mine_. The creature growled at him with utter revulsion but he was ignoring it right now. He moved closer to her and she could feel the warmth of his body as he pressed it closer to hers. He lowered his head slowly, his lips moving towards her lips…

"Anything off the trolley?" asked a voice. "Oh… I… Um." They jumped apart and saw the speaker grow scarlet with embarrassment. Tom looked extremely disappointed and Catherine's heart was racing.

"I will see you later," he promised her, ignoring the trolley lady. "When we get back to the castle, I will see you."

"Okay," she breathed, a blush creeping up her own face. Tom walked quickly back to his friends' compartment and the trolley lady looked at Catherine.

"I'm very sorry dear," she began but Catherine just interrupted.

"Don't worry about it," she grinned, looking at where Tom had just slipped through the compartment door. "It's fine, it's better than fine, it's brilliant."

"Of course, dear," came the reply.

Catherine was all grins for the rest of the journey and Lommy repeatedly asked who had jinxed her.

"Or charmed her, maybe," suggested Kate with a wink, while they sat at the Gryffindor table. "A blush? Who is he?"

"No one." Catherine's attempt at a straight face failed miserably.

"As long as it's not Riddle," Lommy said, almost threateningly. Catherine didn't make eye contact. Well who else would it be? "No! Not him! Catherine… seriously!"

"No one said anything about serious," she frowned. Her smile had finally vanished.

"Catherine, when will you see him for what he is?" Lommy demanded in outrage. "He's using you!"

"No he is not!" she shouted back, standing up.

"Yes he is!" he leapt up to. They stared at each other furiously and then suddenly realised that silence had fallen in the Great Hall. Everyone had turned to look at the two Gryffindors.

Humiliated, Catherine looked around, wide-eyed to see Tom's surprised face rising from the crowd and then fled from the Great Hall tears in her eyes.

"I should go after her-" Lommy started, but Llew seized his sleeve and pulled him back down onto his seat.

"No you shouldn't," he told him firmly, keeping a hold on his arm. The chatter began again in the Great Hall as students speculated about the drama and Lommy wrenched his arm from Llew's grip.

"I'm not going anywhere," he muttered angrily. He looked up at his friends. "I am just trying to protect her from him, you know what he is."

"I know you're still angry about what he did to Myrtle, but Catherine doesn't want to see that side of him," Llew sighed. "I wish she would just open her eyes and realise-" He broke off as he saw Riddle exiting the Great Hall. The other two also saw him and Llew had to restrain Lommy to stop him chasing him. "What good will it do?"

"Maybe none," growled Lommy. "But it will stop him doing anything bad to her and it will make me feel better."

"You and me both," muttered Kate. The boys looked at her in surprise. Violence didn't suit Kate one bit. "She's one of my best friends and I don't trust him. I don't like the power her has over her, it's weird."

"We need a plan to get him and her away from each other and we need one now," Lommy insisted. "Catherine is too sweet and trusting to be mixed up with _him_. You know something, I actually think he's evil; pure evil. There's something about his eyes, particularly recently. Remember last year when those Slytherins cursed loads of younger students? It was always his friends behind it and they absolutely worship him. I guess he's too smart to actually get his hands dirty so he gets the gang to do it for him."

"I think you have a point," admitted Llew. "They're always following him, it's like they admire him, but are terrified at the same time."

"Even his friends are afraid of him and know what he is capable of," groaned Lommy. "Why can't she see it?"

"Catherine wait!" called Tom as he spotted her hurrying up a flight of stairs. She sped up even more. Tom was suddenly worried. "Catherine!" He ran faster gaining on her. "Wait! Please wait!" He managed to catch up with her and seized her arm, but she resolutely refused to face him.

"I don't want to talk right now," she told him in a shaky voice.

"Were you rowing because of me?" asked Tom, concerned.

"Yes, if you must know, my friends think I should stay well away from you," she told him, raising her hands to her face for a brief moment.

"And is this you doing what they tell you?" he asked in a cool voice.

She looked around at him, her face was scarlet.

"No it isn't," she said. "The row was that I disagreed with them, well mainly Lommy."

"Then why wouldn't you stop when I called for you, just now?" he asked, confused.

"I'm embarrassed. I just want to go to my room and repeatedly kick myself for it," she told him, frowning.

"Don't do that," he said gently. "I'm touched that you feel so strongly about the subject. Remember I promised that I would see you again at Hogwarts, when we were on the train?"

Her voice caught in her throat and she nodded meekly, heart racing. He closed the distance between them in a moment and his lips met hers and his arms wound around her body.

Then suddenly it was over and Tom stepped away hastily, looking conflicted. Nevertheless, he smiled his best smile, causing Catherine to melt inside and bad her goodnight.

She didn't move from the spot for half a minute, still shocked. Then, grinning ear to ear, the previous embarrassment forgotten, she ascended the stairs to her common room and lay in bed.

That was the first time she had been kissed. Part of her, a part she didn't recognise, wanted him to be there right at this moment, arms around her, lips against hers… This was all so new to her; she didn't really know what to make of it. All she knew was there was no going back.


	21. Chapter 21

_I'm back (at last) with another instalment & I fully intend to finish this story no matter how long it takes. This is my third attempt to write this chapter, as both other times, my computer saw fit to break & wipe the hard drive before uploading... it's like it was cursed... no pun intended ;)_

_Thank you for your patience & I hope that this chapter was worth the wait..._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 21**

Tom Riddle pushed a small box of crystallised pineapples across the large wooden table, at which the Slytherin members of the Slug Club were seated. Slughorn's eyes widened in delight as he accepted the treat and nodded in agreement, when Tom told his awestruck admirers that this was their Head of House's favourite treat. Coincidently, or perhaps by Tom's input, the people present at the table, bar Slughorn, were part of his inner group of followers and were as equally terrified as they were in awe of him.

Due to their fears of putting a foot wrong, it was left to Tom to fill most of the silence, which was punctuated only with agreement and appreciation at his words. It was like having a well trained audience follow him around, hanging off his every word and laughing in all the right places. The way they pussy-footed around him grew irritating quite quickly. Cowards. At least when he spoke to Catherine, she would hold her own and stand her ground. If she didn't agree with him, she told him.

Thinking about Catherine made his resolve waver. The idea of this Slytherin-only Slug club had been planted by Tom, who intended to butter up Slughorn as much as it was possible. He had a few important questions for the Potions Master and could not risk Catherine overhearing them. Admittedly, she would not know what he was talking about, if she did overhear, but Slughorn was not likely to be receptive and his tone would give the game away. Therein, a Slytherin-only meeting meant Catherine had no excuse to be anywhere near his dark dealings.

At last, Slughorn, told the boys around the table that the hour was late and it was time to go. They looked at Tom, immediately, for he had not moved.

"Go on," he told them, evenly. "I need to speak to Professor Slughorn."

They did not need telling twice. At his words, there was an instant din of scraping chairs and clambering feet as everyone hurried to leave the office, leaving only Tom and his teacher in the room.

"What is troubling you, m'boy?" Professor Slughorn asked with a yawn, patting his rounded stomach and looking content.

"I need to speak to you about something Sir," Tom began hesitantly. "Although I believe it may be a somewhat delicate subject and I felt that the other teachers wouldn't understand." Careful flattery would help immensely. Slughorn sat straighter in his chair, interested.

"Go on," he urged, his expression a shade more serious.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about... horcruxes." Silence. Awful endless silence. The room was lit only by flickering flames from the fireplace, but even in the dim light, the greyish tinge that had entered Slughorn's face was visible.

"Horcruxes?" Slughorn repeated, at last.

" Yes sir," Tom replied, watching his teacher carefully. "I was reading and came across the term, however I did not understand it and could not find a single book in the Library that explains what they are."

"That is because all books on Horcruxes are banned from the Hogwarts Library," Slughorn told him. "It is a very dark branch of magic. Why, may I ask, do you wish to know of such things?"

"It is purely academic sir," Tom answered slowly. "I like to learn and understand things, I think it is more important to know than not to. But if you don't..." Tom let his voice trail off, feigning uncertainty.

"As it is you, Tom, I will tell you what I know," he told him slowly. "However, I need your assurance that what I tell you does not leave this room and that your only intentions _are indeed_ purely academic."

"Of course sir," Tom answered, carefully holding back his eagerness. Slughorn surveyed him briefly, before taking a deep breath and beginning.

Tom sat in silence, listening and nodding as his teacher relayed the knowledge he already possessed. Horcruxes are magical objects that contained a fragment of soul, which is torn by committing murder and as long at the Horcrux is safe, the wizard it belongs to cannot die.

"But what if you made more than one?" asked Tom, an unpleasant glint in his eye. "Seven is supposed to be the most powerfully magical number."

"Seven?" exclaimed Slughorn, becoming flustered. "Do you realise what you are saying? To gain seven Horcruxes, you would need to murder seven people. _Seven!_"

"I know that," Tom replied quickly, but he felt a little regret at the way the conversation had turned.

"That is all, Tom," said Slughorn abruptly, leaping up from his chair. "We will not discuss this matter any further. Goodnight." Tom sat still, eyeing his teacher. Then he sighed.

"Goodnight, sir," answered Tom in a low voice, understanding that this conversation had reached its limit. "I apologise if I spoke out of term."

He stood up and vacated the room swiftly, leaving Slughorn to slump back into his chair and bury his face in his hands.

Despite Slughorn's horror at the idea of seven Horcruxes, it seemed to Tom that making that number would be very much possible, even if it_ was_ evil. He already had his first one and he didn't need to make seven, only six. The seventh part would continue to reside in his own body.

Tom was wandering aimlessly through the corridors as he pondered these things and he bumped into a Gryffindor first year.

"What are you doing out of bed?" asked Tom in a stern voice. The boy had a cherubim face, with large blue eyes and curly blonde locks. He looked at Tom's chest and saw a gleaming badge pinned to his robes, which told him that he was dealing with a prefect.

"I.. I..." the boy stuttered, seemingly unable to come up with an explanation.

"Well?" Tom asked, towering over him, but keeping his voice smooth and light.

"Midnight duel," the boy admitted, looking down at his shoes, nervously.

"I see," Tom murmured, an idea was occurring to him. "You do that that people get expelled for doing midnight duels, don't you?" Tom enjoyed the reaction of the boy, his blue eyes widening in horror.

"No," he whispered. "Please, I'll do anything."

"Hmm," Tom said, pretending to consider the boy through narrowed eyes. "Perhaps we could come to some other kind of arrangement."

"What do you mean?" the boy asked in a tiny voice. He was clearly regretting this rash decision for a midnight duel.

"I will let you off this time, provided you attend as many detentions with me as I see fit," Tom told him sternly, or rather the creature told him. The humanity that was Tom had been shoved aside, allowing the creature full reign over his actions and words. He leaned in and lowered his voice to deliver the last, slightly chilling line. "Then this will all be our little secret." The boy looked confused, but nodded.

"Now hurry along back to your common room," Tom said in his normal tone, straightening up again. "I don't want to find you wandering down these corridors at this hour again." As the boy started to leave, Tom seized his shoulder. "Oh, before you go, tell me your name."

"Michael Brown," the boy muttered.

"Well the Michael," Tom said, withdrawing his hand. "Run along."

Catherine woke with a start when the portrait door swung open with a bang. She blinked, realising that she had fallen asleep in the armchair whilst finishing off her astronomy homework, which she suddenly realised had a huge black ink stain across the bottom. She must have knocked the ink bottle over in her sleep. She groaned and turned her head to see a first year climbing through the portrait hole and looking rather shifty.

"Where have you been?" she asked him, stretching and taking out her wand to try to fix the damage to her homework.

"Out," he muttered. "Doesn't matter."

"Okay, okay," she answered, pointing her wand at the parchment and flourishing it. "I was only asking, it's Michael isn't it?"

"Yes," he said abruptly. Catherine lowered her wand and took a good look at him, he looked a little shaken.

"If something is bothering you, or you need someone to offload to, I'm here," she told him carefully, wondering if the lad was struggling to settle in and remembering how good Al had been to her.

Michael looked a little surprised and yet in a way, grateful.

"Thanks," he mumbled nervously. "I'm just really tired, I need to get off to bed."

"Not a bad idea," smiled Catherine. "Night."

"Night." He left for his dormitory and once Catherine was convinced that she had removed as much as the unwanted ink as possible, she tucked her books under her arm and tiptoed into her own dormitory, careful not to wake anyone.

The next day, Michael Brown was sat in the library, when Tom Riddle dropped into a seat beside him. A small look of amusement entered his eyes when he saw the first year shift in his seat uncomfortably.

"Your first detention will be tonight," he murmured. "Meet me in the third classroom, on the first corridor of the fourth floor at eight o'clock. That one is usually empty so we shouldn't be disturbed. Don't be late." Tom stood up and left. As he walked out of the library, Catherine passed him, talking animatedly to Lommy and didn't seem to realise he was there. Tom was confident that Lommy had noticed him, but chosen not to say anything and also managed to hurry Catherine along faster so Tom had no chance to speak to her without backtracking. It was unfortunate that he was due in class or he would have made a point of ruining their cosy chat. However, he needed to stay squeaky clean in the eyes of the teachers, for him to have any chance of carrying out his plans.

Nevertheless, he couldn't shake off the memory of their kiss and his wish to be with her right now as he left the library. His resolve nearly wavered when he heard Catherine laughing at whatever Switch had said. Hadn't they recently rowed over him? How was it that they were friends again so quickly? If he really meant that much to Catherine, then surely she would blank Lombard Switch on principle. As he thought these things, a plan began to formulate about his first detention with the young Gryffindor.

"You want me to spy on Catherine Mills?" asked Michael, raising his eyebrows at the odd request.

"Yes," answered Tom unrepentant. "And keep a close watch on Lombard Switch, to make sure he isn't dripping any poison in her ear."

"That is really..." Michael struggled for a word. "Weird."

"Really?" asked Tom coolly, flourishing his wand. For one long second, Michael felt like his body was on fire. "Weird is it?"

"No, sorry," Michael quickly said, begin to shake slightly. What had he just done to him?

"So will you do what I ask?" Tom demanded. Michael didn't answer immediately and Tom flourished his wand again, this time letting the fire linger for two seconds. The extra time made all the difference, as he not only felt the fire but the pain. "That was a warning, try my patience and it will be for much, much longer."

"Yes, I'll do it," Michael stuttered, terrified.

"Good," smiled Tom, pocketing his wand. "Well that should be all for tonight. I think it goes without saying that you mention this to no one, or else.." his voice trailed off dangerously. The creature basked in its vicious control. "Be back here the same time tomorrow. Goodnight Michael."

The boy hurried away, not wanting to stay for a second longer. He knew he was trapped. If he told someone about Tom, then Tom would tell them about the midnight duel and get him expelled. If he didn't do what Tom said, he'd make him suffer. He was left with no choice, but to spy on Catherine, the older student who had shown him such kindness and who had offered to listen to any of his worries.

He didn't have the nerve to tell her about this and felt like he was betraying her kindness. He felt concern towards the girl, wondering what Tom Riddle could want with her and why he wanted to keep an eye on her and Lombard. Would he hurt them too? Michael was in a world of his own when he entered the common room to see Catherine and Lommy playing wizards chess against another two students, who he didn't really know, but in fact were Llew and Kate. Lommy whispered something to Catherine, who grinned triumphantly and exclaimed,

"Queen to C Four," then looked up to see the comprehension dawning on their opponents' faces. Lommy grinned too and in unison, he and Catherine shouted.

"Checkmate!"

"Oh no," groaned Llew, realising he'd missed an opportunity to stop this defeat. Lommy and Catherine jumped up in triumph and hugged, chanting about being the champions. When they pulled away from the hug, their eyes met briefly, grins plastered over their faces, then Catherine noticed Michael, still stood in front of the portrait hole.

"Are you okay?" Lommy looked around and saw the boy, his smile fading, to be replaced with concern.

"Mate, come and sit down," offered Lommy, approaching the boy. "You're as white as a sheet."

"No, I'm okay," Michael managed to say, before hurrying past the gathering and rushing up to the dormitory.

"I'll go and see what's up," said another first year boy, following him up the stairs. A few minutes later, the boy returned and shook his head. "He said he's fine, just tired. I don't believe him though, something is up."

"I think we should leave him be, for now," advised Llew. "Let him talk when he feels up to it."

"He looked scared though," Catherine said, looking at the staircase that Michael had just hurried up.

"I know," answered Llew. "But he doesn't seem to be ready for it yet. Let him rest."

"I'll stay up there, keep an eye on him," the first year boy told them, before returning to his dormitory. Lommy and Catherine exchanged a worried look, both wondering what could have happened to this young boy to make him so afraid.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.**_

**Chapter 22**

Tom Riddle met Michael about three times a week for the next month, gathering information about the situation with Catherine and Lommy. Michael had been particularly worried about the second detention, because he thought the hug between Catherine and Lommy would set Tom off again. Although Tom was indeed angry, he didn't take it out on the boy, knowing that Michael might stop being honest with him if he continued to feel threatened. In fact, Tom didn't raise a wand to him at all with the following meetings and although he wanted to keep Michael worried enough to hold his tongue, he also wanted the boy to feel confident enough to tell him everything.

Although Michael still dreaded the meetings, his fear mostly subsided once he realised Tom wasn't planning on cursing him. He recognised that even if what he told Tom upset him, he treated him much better when he relayed his news with honesty. He had, stupidly, tried to lie, but Tom could tell immediately and reminded him that telling the truth was in his best interest. He didn't try it again.

From his meetings with Michael, Tom realised that Lommy and Catherine were becoming a lot closer, which wasn't helped by the fact that Kate and Llew were now a couple. Tom worried that the time they spent together would bring them closer still and he had barely had chance to speak to her at all. A month after the "detentions" had started, Michael overheard Lommy, Llew and Kate talking about Catherine.

"I think it's working," murmured Lommy, as Catherine hurried back to her dormitory. "She hardly mentions him now."

"I noticed," answered Kate. "The longer we keep her away from him, the better. After the way he treated Myrtle, I don't want to take any chances."

"Have you asked her about him at all?" Llew inquired.

"Of course not," answered Kate. "If she's beginning to forget about him, I'm not going to bring it up again. She's been much happier spending time just with us, don't you think?"

"Yes," answered Lommy. "But that doesn't mean she's forgetting about him, it could just mean she's keeping us in the dark where he is concerned."

"We just have to be careful, then," muttered Llew. "Shh, she's coming back."

Catherine skipped back to their side, blissfully unaware of their conversation.

Tom was furious when he heard about this and Michael became properly afraid again.

"It doesn't surprise me," answered Tom. "I suspected as much. Poor Catherine caught in the middle, all of her friends going behind her back. I need to get her away from them. I need _you _to get her away from them."

"How?" squeaked the boy.

"She's a good girl Catherine, will help anyone," answered Tom. "Use that. Ask for homework help, get her to like you, then I will explain the rest of the plan once I'm convinced it will have maximum impact."

Michael had no choice but to do as he was told. When he returned to the common room he fetched his transfiguration homework and sat in the corner of the room, feigning a look of confusion. Catherine was sat a little way away, trying to read a book on potions and Lommy was reading a Quidditch book while announcing his favourite facts to her every five minutes. Michael stood up and approached her slowly, genuinely nervous.

"Urm, Catherine?" muttered Michael and she looked up immediately, putting down her book.

"How can I help you?" she beamed.

"I'm struggling a bit... with..." Catherine stood up and was led to the small table he was working at, with his homework sprawled across. "I don't really understand this bit."

Catherine looked over the section and smiled, before beginning a detailed explanation. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed Lommy watching them, a small smile on his face and quickly tried to block him out as he listened to Catherine.

Under Tom's careful instructions, Michael continued to draw Catherine away from Lommy with help on his homework and she was always pleased and willing to help. She never grew impatient and always had time for him. A couple of times when he was unsuccessful, Lommy would join them and offer his advice too. Michael knew that Lommy and Catherine were good, kind people whom he liked very much, which is why he felt horrible for lying to them like this. After a few weeks of this, Tom was growing impatient with the lack of contact between himself and Catherine, as her friends successfully filled up her timetable, leaving her with no free time to see him. This made Michael feel very nervous, something that the all too attentive Catherine picked up on.

"Are you going to tell me where you keep disappearing to in the evenings?" asked Catherine, while they sat in the library.

"I don't know what you mean," he answered, worried.

"I know something is bothering you and that it has something to do with wherever you keep going," murmured Catherine. "Come on, you can talk to me Michael."

"I _really_ don't know what you're talking about," he answered, quickly, seeing Tom walk through the library doors. Tom looked around and spotted the two of them, also noticing that Lombard was nowhere in sight and smiled. "Look I've got to go," he muttered, jumping up and grabbing his things. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom speak to a few of Slytherins who were stood with him and they quickly retreated out of the library, matching grins on their face.

"Wait Michael," said Catherine, laying her hand over the book he was trying to pick up.

"No, please," he said, snatching the book from under her grasp and making his way to the library doors, towards Tom.

"Catherine," exclaimed Tom, delightedly, as she approached him. "How have you been? I've barely seen you since..." he hesitated and Catherine allowed herself a small, slightly shy, smile. However, it was obvious she was distracted as she watched the retreating back of the first year boy. "Is something wrong?"

She looked at him and smiled.

"Not with you," she answered. "And you're right, I've been so busy recently that I've not even had chance to go to the Slug Club meetings, where I usually get to see you. Although I hear he's not running many at the moment." She was continuing to look at the door where Michael had just exited.

"What is it?" asked Tom. "Is it something to do with the boy who just went past me?"  
>"Michael? Yes," answered Catherine. "I'm a little worried about him."<p>

"Then why don't we go and check on him?" asked Tom. "See if he is okay?"

Catherine nodded gratefully as they left the library together, but she didn't see the smirk on Tom's face as they walked side by side.

Suddenly they heard a voice from behind a tapestry.

"Ow! Let go of me!" It was Michael. Catherine whipped out her wand and performed the severing charm and with Tom, burst into the hidden passageway to find two Slytherins holding Michael as a third was raising his wand.

"Stop!" shouted Catherine. Raising her own wand and third boy turned his on Catherine. "Do anything and he gets it."

"Stop," ordered Tom, coming into sight. "Let him go and leave him alone."

Michael, Catherine and the Slytherins all turned to Tom with equal looks of surprise.

"But-" one of them began to protest.

"I said stop," repeated Tom, raising his own wand at the speaker. "Now!" That silenced them. The three confused and worried Slytherins exchanged looks, before letting go of Michael and slinking away. "Are you okay?" Tom asked the small boy, who continued to look shocked. Catherine approached him and put an arm around his shoulder.

"Did they hurt you?" she asked, holding back anger.

"No, I'm okay," he muttered. "I've got to go."

"Michael-" Catherine began to follow him but Tom put out his arm. "Let him go, he's clearly a bit shaken up."

"What if they try again to-" began Catherine, unconvinced.

"They won't," he promised, cupping her face with his hands. "Trust me."

"I knew something was wrong with him, I think they've been bullying him," Catherine continued.

"I'll make sure they leave him alone."

"You know," Catherine whispered after a pause. "That was a very brave and noble thing you just did, standing up to your own house like that. Maybe you should be a Gryffindor after all."

"That I doubt," he breathed, leaning close to her. "We haven't had a chance to catch up in so long."

"No, we haven't" Catherine said in a small voice. Their lips met.

The blush was not quite gone from Catherine's face when she returned to the Gryffindor common room that night. Things had become very heated between herself and Tom and for once, he hadn't pulled away immediately as with every other occasion. She realised how much she missed him and his company and wondered vaguely why she hadn't made more time to go and see him.

"Where have _you_ been?" asked Lommy, a hint of worry in his voice. "Michael came back here a while ago without you. Don't forget, you, Llew and Kate said you would come to Quidditch practise tonight, we're pushing for time as it is."

"Oh, I completely forgot," replied Catherine, slightly flustered. "Just let me grab my scarf and gloves."

As Catherine gathered the warm outdoor clothes, a sudden thought struck her. They had been doing this a lot; going down to Quidditch practise, visiting Hagrid, in his new little cabin, playing wizards' chess tournaments and even doing lots of the homework together. Every time one thing ended, someone would have an idea for their next activity and off they would go. She hadn't been given any free time to spend alone, never mind with Tom. Had her friends been keeping her busy deliberately? As she rushed down to meet them, she got the slightly awkward feeling that they had been talking about her moments before and to her, this was confirmation that they were up to something.

"That went well, Michael," smirked Tom that evening in their designated classroom. "Catherine was really quite impressed with my heroic act."

"I guess I should thank you for standing up for me," muttered Michael, still feeling wrong-footed.

"Perhaps you should," replied Tom, his smile widening. "Or perhaps you shouldn't."

"What does that mean?" the boy asked, his blue eyes more confused than ever.

"How was Catherine when she arrived back in the Gryffindor common room?" asked Tom, curiously.

"She seemed to be in a good mood, completely forgot she was supposed to be going to Quidditch practise with Lommy."

"Is that so?" Tom asked with interest.

"She's down there with them now, from what I gather," added Michael, with a little less volume. Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. "But they were worried about her, because she didn't tell them where she'd been and they guessed she was with you. While she went to get her outdoor stuff Lommy said that they couldn't risk leaving her on her own again, just in case you..."

"In case I what?" Tom demanded, no trace of humour in his face.

"Well I'm not sure, Catherine came back down at that point," explained Michael. "He never got to finish his sentence. It was really awkward, though. They've been talking about her a lot when she's not there, but this time she looked a bit suspicious of them and they could feel it. I think they are going to put more effort in to keeping her busy."

Meanwhile, Catherine, who had gone down to Quidditch practise with the others kept shooting them suspicious looks as though she expected to catch them out.

"So where _did _you go earlier?" asked Kate, trying to break the newly formed tension.

"Do I need an escort everywhere now?" Catherine snapped back. Kate looked hurt.

"No," she answered in a level voice. "I'm your friend and I just wondered, that's all."

"Well it's up to me what I do with my spare time and who I see," Catherine told her coldly.

"There's no need to be like that," Llew protested, winding his arm around Kate. Lommy flew over them, giving an excited wave, before flying towards his other team mates. Llew waved back before continuing to speak. "I take it this means you were with Tom Riddle?"

"So what if I was?" demanded Catherine, feeling hot around the ears. Not _all_ the blush was due to anger.

"Look what he's done to you," Llew said simply, always calm, never raising his voice. Catherine did a double take, realising she was stood, towering over her friends, who were both still seated in the Quidditch stands. Catherine dropped into her seat, suddenly speechless. "You've spent the last couple of months with us and you've been happy. The caring girl who will do anything to help anyone. Then after one short visit with your Slytherin friend, you suddenly think it's okay to treat your friends like dirt?"

"Llew... I..." Catherine didn't know what to say. "But you've been trying to distract me and..."

"Maybe we _have_ been distracting you, but only because we care about you," Kate told her gently.

"If he cared about you, he would leave you alone," Llew told her sadly. "I don't like to judge people, Catherine, but the way Tom treated Myrtle still plays on my mind... I know you think she overplayed it-" Llew added before Catherine could protest "-but we don't. Put yourself in our shoes. We believed Myrtle and with that in mind, we are scared for you. We are scared of what he could be capable of and we want to keep you safe from him, is that such a bad thing?"

"It is when you can't be one hundred per cent sure," Catherine muttered, refusing to make eye contact with them. "You're wrong about him, you have to be."

"If only you could see it," sighed Kate.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 23**

Catherine felt conflicted over everything that was happening. She wanted to prove to her friends that they were wrong about Tom, but didn't know how to go about it.

She was sitting in a squashy armchair by the fire, a notable distance from the other three. She could tell that Llew, Lommy and Kate were talking about her from the way they kept shooting sideways looks in her direction, but she didn't care. She wasn't in the mood to care. They were wrong and she was going to prove it.

The heat from the fire was a little too intense, but she didn't have the motivation to get up and move to a cooler spot. Instead she glanced around absent-mindedly, to see Michael slipping through the portrait hole, clearly trying to go unnoticed.

Her weary, apathetic mood suddenly lifted and she sat up. Now, if ever, was the best chance to find out where he was going in the evenings. She stood up and felt the eyes of her three friends on her back as she pushed her way out of the portrait hole and let it swing shut behind her.

The first thing she noticed was the drop in temperature, as the cool air surrounded her hot skin, bringing instant relief and a greater sense of alertness. Michael was already out of sight, but by standing stock still, she could hear hurried footstep becoming more distant and muffled. She rushed after the sound, careful not to be too loud herself and finally found herself in viewing distance of Michael.

The boy seemed jumpy and yet she felt that he was too much in his own world to even realise he was being followed. She was quite right too. In order to not lose sight of him, she had to sneak down the staircase while he was still climbing down just ahead of her. One glance over his shoulder and she would have been in plain sight. Game over. However he didn't look back once and she followed him down several flights of stairs and down a corridor. He headed straight for a classroom and Catherine held back behind a suit of armour, watching to see what he would do. It was lucky she did, because for the first time he turned his head, to check the coast was clear and she held her breath, not daring to make a sound. Once satisfied, Michael pushed open the door, slid in and pushed it behind him, so that it was only open a tiny crack. She waited a a few seconds before approaching the door. What was he doing in there? Remedial classes? Spell practise?

She laid her hand on the door, ready to push it open, when she heard a voice. The last voice she had expected to hear.

"Good evening, Michael." It was Tom. What on earth was going on? Why were the two of them meeting up like this? Sure, Tom had helped him out of a sticky patch, but did that really warrant late evening meetings? Curious, confused, she let her hand slide down the door and come to a rest by her side. She couldn't see Michael or Tom through the crack, but if she pressed her ear against it, she could hear every word.

"Hello Tom," Michael answered in a nervous voice. Catherine couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

"Well, you will be pleased to know my plan played out perfectly," Tom announced and his voice made it clear he was grinning triumphantly.

"What plan?" Michael wondered aloud.

"The one I said I would explain later," answered Tom, voice layered in false innocence. How often had they been meeting up, then? In fact, how long had Michael been sneaking out in evenings? It had been weeks. Had they been meeting here for that long? This was all too strange. "I should thank you for the part you played in separating her from _Switch_," Tom continued, spitting the name out. Did he mean Lommy? Did he mean _her_?

"I'd rather you didn't," Michael muttered.

"Feeling guilty?" asked Tom. "Shouldn't get caught during midnight duels then, should we?"  
>"There's no way we should be doing <em>this<em>," grumbled Michael. "It's just wrong, Lommy and Catherine are nice." Catherine's heart skipped a little at hearing her own name being mentioned.

"_Switch_," Tom spat in disgust, "has been plotting behind Catherine's back to stop me from seeing her for weeks. Is that _nice_?" Michael muttered something incoherent and Catherine strained to hear him. "What did you say?" Tom asked.

"I said," Michael raised his voice somewhat. "He probably thought he was doing her a favour, protecting her."

"Well he thought wrong," growled Tom, clearly becoming angrier. "And now Catherine has seen me in my good-guy routine, she will feel the same way." Good-guy routine? What did he mean by that? Michael seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time Catherine did.

"Did you set those Slytherins on me? To impress Catherine?" asked Michael aghast. "So you could play the hero?"  
>"Well, you were never going to be a Ravenclaw," murmured Tom. "But you got there in the end."<p>

Catherine was filled with horror and confusion.

"You're sick," she heard Michael say and she imagined his face had drained of colour. "Sick. You can't mess with people like that."

"You are in as deep as I, my friend," Tom told him coldly. "And it achieved exactly what I wanted." Catherine felt nauseous, but underneath, there was a burning pit of anger. Did he get three older boys to terrorise an eleven-year-old just so he could kiss Catherine? That was controlling. That was sick. Before she could get a grip on her anger she burst into the room to find Tom pointing his wand at the now silent and frightened boy. The two of them heard her entry and looked around. Tom's face was filled with shock while Michael's face switched from fearful, to surprised, to relieved.

"What are you doing here Catherine?" asked Tom, pulling back his wand quickly, so it was not longer aimed at Michael.

"What are _you _doing here Tom?" Catherine retorted.

"She followed me," Michael realised.

"This was _you_?" Tom demanded. "You led her here after everything I said?"

"No," said Catherine in a low voice. "I followed him because I knew something was wrong with him. This was _not_ what I expected to find. It wasn't his fault."

"You must have known she followed you, though," Tom murmured, stepping closer to Michael. "You must have realised she was behind you."

"No," Michael answered, his relief no longer present.

"You're lying," Tom growled. "I know you're lying."

"I- I," stuttered Michael. "I thought I'd heard someone, but I didn't see them."

"You didn't even keep a lookout did you?" Tom growled, clutching his wand so tightly the whites of his knuckles were visible.

"Leave him alone," Catherine shouted, surprised by her own volume. Tom looked over at her with a conflicted look, giving Michael time to stagger backwards and dash to Catherine's side.

"Let's go," Catherine said, grabbing Michael's arm and turning to the door, which suddenly slammed shut.

"You're not going anywhere!" growled Tom, his wand directed at the door he had magically closed. He turned it on Michael. Catherine pulled out her own wand and pointed it at Tom. "Don't Catherine."

"Open the door," she said in a voice of forced calm. "Let us out."

"I can't do that," Tom answered darkly.

"Let him go, at least," she said, trying not to beg.

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Tom in a mocking voice, eyes still on Michael. "He's the one who let me down and he should pay for it."

"I'm warning you," Catherine said. Tom looked at her briefly, which gave Michael time to produce his own wand.

"What are you going to do... I wouldn't," Tom warned as Michael directed his wand at him. "Two on one? Yet I'm the only one who isn't worried about the magical outcome."

"Oh yeah?" Michael shouted. "Well take this – Petrificus Totalus!"

Tom flicked his wand almost lazily to deflect the curse.

"Really?" he asked his wand back on Michael. "The fully body bind? That is the best you can come up with?" He laughed.

"As soon as you get the chance," Catherine whispered in a rush, "run, run and get help. Don't worry about waiting, we need someone to help us." Tom was still chuckling to himself.

"I don't want to leave you," Michael whispered. "It's my fault-"

"No Michael," Catherine replied. "Do as I ask, promise me."

Tom was no longer laughing, but eyeing the two of them. Michael gave a slight nod and Catherine felt a little hope. If they had not had this small conversation amidst Tom's amusement, Michael's Gryffindor-worthy personality would have kept him in this room with Catherine. At least now they had a chance.

"Oh Michael," sighed Tom. "You know what a real curse is like. What it feels like." Michael looked afraid again. Catherine suddenly felt sure that Tom had hurt Michael before now. She felt ill. "This, Michael, is a _real_ curse." He brandished his wand and Catherine, whether bravely or stupidly dived in the way. It seemed to happen in slow motion. She leapt in front of Michael and Tom's faced turned from anger and cruelty to horror as the curse hit the wrong person. Catherine's face contorted into a look of pain as she felt her whole body burst into flames. Tom yanked his wand away as Catherine hit the floor, shaking from the sudden shock of pain. She had one thought in her head.

"Run Michael!" he hesitated for a moment, before magically unlocking the door and rushing through it. Catherine had lost the grip on her wand and she watched it roll away across the floor.

Tom looked down at Catherine, filled with horror at his actions. Though unintentionally, he had used an unforgivable curse on the only person he had ever cared about. She dragged herself to her knees and tried to follow Michael out.

"No!" shouted Tom, diving towards the door and shutting it, blocking the exit. "You can't leave me!"

Catherine scrambled backwards.

"They were right!" she shouted. "They were all right. It was all you wasn't it?" She was edging further back every moment. "You really did torment Myrtle! Your own friends are all terrified of you. You... you opened the chamber of secrets, didn't you? You got Hagrid expelled when he did nothing wrong. I was petrified-"

"I didn't mean for that to happen!" Tom shouted, desperation in his voice.

"-and Myrtle," Catherine interrupted with a horrified expression. "Myrtle died because of you! You killed her!"

"No!" argued Tom. "It wasn't me, it was the basilisk."

"So you _did_ open it?" Catherine demanded, shocked by the confirmation. "You murdered her! All in an attempt to control me!"

"NO!" exploded Tom, his wand was aimed at Catherine without his consent as the creature used his anger to control the action. She fell silent with fear. She didn't know what he was about to do. Would he repeat the curse? She had never seen him so angry and dangerous before. She shrank back against the wall as he advanced.

"I never wanted you to get involved in this," he growled. "I wanted to keep you safe from all of this. The basilisk acted on its own, I didn't kill her."

"So it did your dirty work for you," whispered Catherine, her voice hoarse from shouting.

"It wasn't like that," he said, taking another step forward.

"Please," Catherine said, the pain and desperation in her own voice shocked even her. Then she broke down into terrified sobs. She had never cried like this before, not even when her parents died. Her fear was crushing, to the point where she could barely breathe.

Tom watched her descent into misery with horror. He had done this. Even when her parents passed away, she had never let him see her cry before. Now, to see this, to see brave, strong Catherine who always stood up for what she believed in, filled with such despair and to know it was his fault, was heart-breaking.

The creature in his mind came head to head with Tom. _It's because of you_, Tom thought to the creature, _you did this. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT!_

The creature was silenced. He tossed his wand aside, disgusted by his actions.

"Catherine," he murmured seeing her curled into a miserable ball. "I'm so sorry." He continued to approach her.

"No," she begged. "Stay away from me."

"I wont hurt you, I promise," he said softly, continuing to approach. "I'm so sorry." She pressed herself against the wall and turned her head away and he knelt down beside her and pulled her into an embrace. She tried to resist at first, but then slumped into him, shaking and crying, while he encircled his arms around her protectively, apologising again and again and trying to calm her down.  
>"I can't believe what I've done," he moaned. "If you only knew how much you mean to me. How much I.. I..." He tightened his grip, cradling her against his chest, as her sobs began to subside. "That's right," he said quietly, "just relax." He adjusted his position, so that he could see her face. Once she had calmed down, she looked him in the eyes. It was clear she had no words to offer him.<p>

"Catherine," he whispered. "Everything that's happened... I'm so sorry. Ever since the first day we met, I knew you would be important to me and..." He almost looked nervous. Catherine watched him, now she was calmer, she was filled with a jumble of other emotions, leaving her conflicted. "The truth is... the truth is I... you are the first person I've ever... Catherine," he took a deep breath and forced himself to say it. He felt like it was the most important thing left in the whole world.

"I love you." He felt a heat building in his chest, a new and strange feeling.

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and in entered Professors Dippet, Dumbledore and Slughorn, closely followed by Llew, Lommy, Kate and Michael.

"Get off her!" shouted Lommy. Tom looked up warily. Then, after planting a light kiss on her forehead, Tom stood up, gently pulling Catherine up with him and lightly pushed her towards the crowd. It was like her legs were made of jelly as she tripped into Lommy's outstretched arms.

"Look after her," Tom said pleadingly. "Please make sure she is okay." The heat in his chest became hotter and hotter, almost unbearable, then there was a sharp stab of it in his heart. "Ah!" He cried, gripping the nearest desk, his free hand pressed against his burning chest.

"Who's doing that?" someone was saying, but it sounded faint, since he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"It's not me."

"Nor me."

"It's no one," said a distant voice, but even now, in his agony, he could tell who it was. Dumbledore. "It's him. It's remorse." He felt the cold floor make contact with his hands as he writhed around on the stone surface. He heard only one more thing before he lost consciousness; Catherine's voice. Although her tone was difficult to decipher, what she said wasn't.

"Tom."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Greetings new and old readers. I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter in particular, which was more intense than normal, so reviews are very much appreciated. You may (or may not) be pleased to hear that we haven't quite reached the end of the story, so please keep reading to find out how things pan out for Tom & Catherine.**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**_

**Chapter 24**

Too bright, everything was too bright. His eyes wanted to remain shut against the light, but it was trying to sneak beneath his eyelids. He turned his head slightly, trying to find a shadow or anything to dim the brightness.

"Ah, awake I see," said a low voice. Tom opened his eyes, but had to blink rapidly as his eyes fought to adjust to the sunlight, which was reflected on the white walls and white linen sheets that covered him. He was in the hospital wing. As he pulled himself into a sitting position, he focused on the man who had spoken to him, seeing auburn hair and a long beard. Two startlingly blue eyes peered at him behind half-moon glasses and for the first time, he looked upon Albus Dumbledore without the slightest feeling of contempt or dislike. He could see kindness in the man's face and everything seemed to be brighter and more beautiful, as though he had spent his life with a dark gauze across his eyes, which had suddenly been lifted. As for the creature, he could not find it within his mind and felt sure that he never would again.

Dumbledore perched on the end of the bed, surveying Tom as he looked at his intensified surroundings. He waited patiently, as though he expected Tom to say something or do something.

"Catherine," Tom murmured, with a pang of guilt. "Is she okay? I need her to know how sorry I am."

"She is well," said Dumbledore. "She is with her friends and they are taking good care of her. She will need some space to recover from the events of two nights ago."

"Two nights?" asked Tom, perplexed. "Have I been asleep since then?"

"You were restless for the most part, the only time you showed any signs of peaceful sleep were a few minutes before you awoke," said Dumbledore. "You have suffered an ordeal as well, which I did not realise the extent of until two nights ago, also."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, then he was speaking before he got an answer. "Professor I've done the most terrible things, Michael, Myrtle and... Catherine."

"I know, Tom," said Dumbledore quietly. "Except it wasn't really you; it was _him_."

"What do you mean?" asked Tom, confused. "It was me, I was there, I did those things."

"No, the heir of Slytherin did those things. Rumours suggest you gave him the name, Voldemort," Dumbledore said quietly.

"But that is the name I gave _myself_," said Tom desperately. "I didn't want the same name as the father who abandoned me." Then he paused. "But the voice..."

"Tell me about it," said Dumbledore, looking expectant.

"It was a little voice inside my head," he murmured. "It used to tell me to do things, told me I was weak. Sometimes I felt like a spectator, as though the owner of the voice took the controls for a while. It wanted me to kill my father, but when I didn't, when I couldn't, it was furious with me."

"It is as I expected," sighed Dumbledore. "Hearing the voice in your mind is not something most wizards experience, however, something happened to you when your were a child, which gave you both this voice in your mind and the ability to talk to snakes."

"The ability to talk to snakes, how is that-?" Tom began

"Can you hear the voice now?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"No, but-"

"Can you speak the language of snakes?" Dumbledore pressed. Tom paused for a moment and thought about it, he was a little slower and more confused as he answered this question.

"No... no I don't think I can."

"Why do you think that is?" asked Dumbledore, his blue eyes blazing.

"I don't know, Professor," he replied, looking down, unable to meet the gaze.

"You made a Horcrux did you not?" asked Dumbledore, his voice lower.

"Yes," Tom replied, wondering when he became so honest. "How did you know?"

"Because that is the only explanation for the phenomenon we are witnessing," said Dumbledore gravely.

"It was because of Myrtle," Tom whispered, feeling true guilt and shame. "When I let the basilisk out, it killed her. I didn't tell it to, but it must still have been my fault, because it split my soul, made it possible for me to make a Horcrux."

"That is incorrect," Dumbledore told him. "A murder would have to have been directly by your hand to split your soul."

"I killed the basilisk," said Tom.

"And then framed Hagrid," Dumbledore muttered, a steely look entering his eye and Tom felt another pang of pain and guilt. "But the basilisk was not human and so it would not have worked. This means that either you killed another person directly, did not at all make a Horcrux at all or that someone had infiltrated your soul some time ago. I know it is not the first, as I would have been able to tell from your reaction, the second is unlikely, given your experience two days ago, which means the third option is left to us."

"The snake," Tom suddenly realised, shocked. "The snake that bit me, when I was a child in the field, the one that could talk to me, he did something."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "A very dark and rare piece of lost magic, created, I believe, by Salazar Slytherin himself, which allowed him to freeze a magical snake in time to pass on his essence to his heir. You Tom, had a piece of Salazar Slytherin's soul inside your own. It is not the same as a Horcrux, as Salazar had not used it to live forever, but had separated it from himself completely and permanently. He placed it in the snake so that it might find a suitable heir, bite him at a young age and help turn him into the man Salazar envisioned to continue his work in this school. The part of soul, or essence needed to make your soul unstable in order to bury itself in, which meant it and the snake had to persuade you to do cruel things, which you did, to the children at the orphanage." More guilt, when would it ever stop. "Although you were being influenced, it would still have been possible to fight back and say no at that stage, so the unpleasant things you did to your peers created a crack, a weakness in your soul and the essence buried in."

"Salazar Slytherin was the voice?" Tom asked, stuck between horror and confusion. "But why me?"

"You were a wizard, descended from Salazar, who had been abandoned, making you a perfect target because you had been denied love." Love. He thought of Catherine again. He needed to push that thought from his mind, she would surely hate him now, anyway.

"So what about the Horcrux I made?" asked Tom. "How did that work?"

"Once Salazar had infiltrated your soul, it effectively acted as a box, with a lid, the lid being the weakened area that had allowed him in," Dumbledore said, watching Tom closely. "When you created your Horcrux, it was the lid part of your soul that went into the object, which had been so weakened by your cruelty in the orphanage and the essence of Slytherin, that this small section was able to detach itself with the incantation."

"So his essence was exposed?" asked Tom, wondering where this was leading.

"Yes," nodded Dumbledore. "Which was very important. The essence probably started to take a stronger hold of you from time to time and it now had space to mould to the shape of your soul to fill in the gap were the small piece was missing. However, it also meant that you had a chance to remove it from yourself. While the soul was boxed in, you had no hope of ridding yourself of it, but now... now you could."

"And I have," said Tom, he knew it was true, because of how different he felt.

"Yes you have," agreed Dumbledore. "How do you think you did it?" Tom remembered the night, the searing pain in his chest and the words uttered by Dumbledore himself.

"Remorse," he realised.

"Remorse," echoed Dumbledore. "When you saw the pain you had caused Catherine, the real you fought through and when you told her of your feelings, the repair began. For the first time in your life, you felt love. No soul ever feels complete until it experiences it, just once is all it takes. Those without it turn twisted and cold, but those with it soar. The essence of Salazar could not reside in your love filled soul and was destroyed. Your remorse awoke the small section of soul in your Horcrux, which returned to you to become whole, truly whole, for the first time in your life."

"There is so much pain," Tom murmured, feeling the burden of guilt press down on his chest. "I did so many unforgiveable things. Myrtle, Hagrid, Michael, people I tormented and took from, how can I ever repay them?"

"You must remember that the essence was responsible for those things, not you," Dumbledore said gently.

"Why are you being so understanding?" asked Tom. "I don't deserve it, it was a part of me."

"But that part is dead," Dumbledore replied firmly. "He no longer resides in this body. He could not love, feel real guilt and compassion. As I have said these things to you, I saw all such emotions flash across your eyes with the purest depth. You have been cleansed and given a second chance."

"There are repercussions though, aren't there?" asked Tom, doubtfully. "The Ministry of Magic will want me in Azkaban... I _should_ go there."

"What and waste your beautiful new soul on the dementors, I don't think so." He seemed to be joking, what a strange sense of humour the man had.

"Catherine saved me," Tom said quietly, wishing he could see her again.

"Your love for her saved you," Dumbledore nodded. "Love is a powerful thing." Dumbledore paused, before continuing in a more matter-of-fact voice. "On a more serious note, I have meetings with the Minister for magic regarding your rather unusual case, where you are as much victim as perpetrator. Under normal circumstances expulsion and confiscation of your wand would be routine and a hearing would follow, but these are not normal circumstances. I cannot guarantee that there will be no repercussions, but I will give your side of the story." His voice became more sombre. "I will of course have to contact Myrtle's family who will struggle to be understanding of this situation." Tom bowed his head. "Rubeus Hagrid will be allowed to resume magical training and I will be giving him a full explanation for everything that has happened."

"What about Catherine?" Tom asked before he could stop himself. "Did she visit me in here?"

Dumbledore hesitated for the first time in the conversation.

"She will need time," he answered quietly. "The ordeal was very traumatic for her and her friends are supporting her as well as they can." Tom took that to mean no and regretted his moment of hope. She had said his name before he passed out... why? Did she _really_ hate him? The idea gave his chest a crushing sensation.

"When can I leave the hospital wing?" asked Tom, wanting to find Catherine.

"When Madam Pomfrey deems you fit and ready to leave," he answered, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I ask that you do not leave the castle; I am afraid that I must confine you to the Great Hall, Slytherin Dungeons, your timetabled classrooms, the library and the direct corridors/staircases between them. I want to be able to find you when the Minister arrives, as he will want to see you."

"I understand, sir," Tom answered. Would Catherine be there? Would she travel alone or surrounded by her friends. He was surprised that he didn't feel the dark emotions towards Lombard Switch and her other friends. It was refreshing, to see the world through these lightened eyes.

Once Madam Pomfrey finally deemed him well enough to leave, the evening meal was being served in the Great Hall. He left the hospital wing, thanking the matron for her troubles and entered the Great Hall. Mostly, his entrance went unnoticed, but his Slytherin friends saw him and waved him over. None of them were aware of the transformation that had taken place in him. He joined them, smiling pleasantly.

He looked around at the Gryffindor table and saw Hagrid, laughing and raising his glass to his fellow house mates as though in celebration. Dumbledore must have spoken to him, then. He saw Hagrid clink glasses with someone, but could not see who it was until he leaned backwards and then Tom saw that it was Catherine. Her face was paler that normal, as though she was recovering from a short bout of sickness and her smile was slightly strained. She was clearly making an effort for her friends, as only Catherine would. She looked towards him, as though she had felt his gaze and seemed to pale even more. He tried to smile at her, but she stood up quickly, saying something hurriedly to her friends. Lommy looked confused and began to follow her, but she motioned for him to stay put and he obliged. She left the room quickly and Tom leapt out of his chair and hurried after her, wanting a chance to explain. He caught up with her on the staircase up to first floor and caught her arm.

"Don't," she said, pulling it away. "Just leave me be."

"Please, Catherine," he begged. "Please let me explain. Please." She started to walk off again and he followed in hot pursuit, where he ran in front of her in a deserted corridor. "Catherine, listen to me, please." He placed one hand on each of her arms, but with a gentle grip. It was only then that he realised, she was trembling.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you," he whispered. "If you just looked at me, you would know it was true. Don't be scared." He removed his hands and stepped back, as though to prove a point. She looked up at him and their eyes met. He felt a surge of love and it took every ounce of self control to stay still.

"You look different," she said, her voice shaking slightly, but also with a new look of wonder.

"Let me explain," Tom said gently. "Just hear me out, please. If you want to go when I've spoken, I wont stop you." She looked at him and nodded. He explained everything that Dumbledore had told him as best he could, trying to make her understand the difference between himself and the creature.

"Don't you see Catherine," he murmured, suddenly realising he had closed the back between them again and wondering when it had happened. "It was you that saved me. When I saw what I'd done, I felt such remorse and realised how much I love you."

"This is, such a lot to..." Catherine mumbled.

"I know," he whispered. Tentatively, he took hold of her hand, keeping his grip loose at first, so as to allow her to pull away if she wanted to and when she didn't tightened it slightly. He could still feel the shakiness and it took much courage to say what followed. "I love you Catherine. You are the only person who ever showed me kindness, understanding and friendship. Anything I do, will be good and for you. I will protect you from harm and I will never let anything hurt you."

"Including yourself?" she asked, tears streaming down her face.

"Especially myself," he answered, a pained look in his face.

"I love you too, Tom," she answered, doing very well not to sob. "That is why this has all been so hard. I felt that I knew you and that everyone was wrong about you, but when you cursed me, I felt like I had done something terribly wrong by loving you. But in a way, we were all wrong and right about you. The good side of you was always there, even if others only saw the darkness."

"You gave me the lightness," he told her. "Without you I would be lost. Catherine you are my light and my world. I love you."

"I knew I was right," Catherine whispered, learning forwards and allowing Tom to encircle his arms around her. "I knew that you weren't everything that they said, that you were good, my friend."

"I'd like to think more than a friend," Tom murmured in her ear, feeling true joy for the first time in his life. She looked up at him and their lips met.

Due to the unusual circumstances of Tom's case, the Ministry did not press charges against, him, but he chose to be present during the explanation to Myrtles parent's in what had happened to her daughter.

"She had such good friends," sobbed her mother. "I wish I could thank Lombard Switch for making her happy. She always used to write about him in her letters."

"He is a good person," Tom agreed, knowing it to be true. "A very good person."

Hagrid was more understanding that anyone could have expected, telling them what a good man Dumbledore was and explaining that he knew it wasn't Tom himself doing the bad things and that he forgave him for it.

It look Lommy, Llew and Kate quite a bit longer to forgive Tom, but when they realised that all the darkness and danger was no longer a part of him, they slowly came round to accepting that the person they saw now, was not the person who did those terrible things.

Tom did not go completely unpunished and was given detentions, in which young Michael was given licence to choose the types of detentions he had to endure. Michael seemed to favour the line "I shall not listen to voices in my head" and was also very forgiving of Tom's actions. Once he had seen Tom for the first time after the hospital, he immediately realised that there had been a change in him and had no longer felt threatened by him. He readily listened to Tom's explanation and once the detentions were over, Tom became something of a big brother to him.

Tom was humbled by the goodness and forgiveness of the people around him and strove every day to do good in the world. But most of all, he was overjoyed by the reciprocated love he had with Catherine, which gave him a true sense of hope and purpose. He was home.

THE END

_**A/N- And that folks, is the end of this story. It has taken a while, I admit, but I promised I would finish it and so I did :) I hope you liked the end, let me know if you saw it coming :P**_

_**Reviews are forever welcome and even if you are reading this in many years time, still drop a comment in there, I'll be sure to check it :)**_

_**Thank you to all the people who stayed with this story until the end and who reviewed it, I appreciate it very much. Since it has taken so long to complete, is feels like the characters have taken on a life of their own and I think I'm going to miss them :')**_

_**You have all been fantastic and I hope you enjoyed this alternative tale for Tom Riddle.**_

_**All the best **_

_**Ask-Stories**_

A special thank you to FlamingRebirth, GinervraHolme, DamonSalvatorelover, Lady Syndra, DEATHxMelody, LaDyOfThEdArKsIdEoFtHeMoOn, Fire and Ash, Twibe, ReadingStar, Lysaia, arorainthesky and the "guest" on chapter 16 who all reviewed this story. I really appreciate that you took the time to read and review this fanfiction story and hope you enjoy this final instalment. Happy writing and reading :D


End file.
